Fighting Gravity
by CrazyClouds
Summary: Mason Pines is sent to Gravity Falls, Oregon, after his parents get too fed up with his constant brawling. His twin sister, Mabel, tags along. There's a lot going on in the Falls, though, and Mason may find that fists aren't that effective against some things. Doesn't mean he'll stop fighting.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh my god, this attic is _amazing!_ Look at all my splinters!" Mabel cried, turning away from her poster of a dreamy boy to show her bark-covered fingers to her twin brother.

Mason shook his head, smiling fondly at her antics. "Mabel… C'mere, I'll help ya take 'em out."

"Aw, but I _like_ my splinters! It's, like, a memento of my first day in Gravity Falls! Can I keep 'em, Dipper? Please please pleeeeease?"

Mason wasn't going to give into her puppy-eyes, though. "You can put them in a jar, alright? Ya can't keep your hands like that, though- it's a bad idea to walk around with open wounds in a forest."

Mabel heaved a hefty, put-upon sigh. "Ugh, _fine_. You're such a dork, Brotato."

"Yeah? Well, _you're_ such a Mabel."

"...Did you just use my name as an insult?"

"I'm sure I packed tweezers _somewhere…_"

"_Not cool_\- oh, hello, Mr. Goat!"

* * *

Mason wasn't really sure how he ended up here, a few hundred miles North of home in the rickety old Mystery Shack of Gravity Falls, Oregon. He was _pretty_ sure it had something to do with getting into his twelfth… No, make that thirteenth fight of the school year. That was back in November. Now, in late June, that number had nearly tripled. November was just when his parents had decided enough was enough, and that no matter what he did, Mason would be shipped off to spend the summer with his Great Uncle, Stanford Pines. Mabel only tagged along because she wanted to- and, Mason was absolutely not leaving her alone in that house.

In his defense, though, Mason was not the one to start any of those fights. He never was. It all began back in elementary school, when some kids thought it would be fun to pick on chipper little Mabel, with her rainbow braces and even more colorful personality. By that point, Mason was already used to protecting her from their mother, so he leapt into the fray without hesitation. However, he realized that fighting back against other kids was a lot different than fighting back against adults. Namely; Mason actually won those fights.

That, obviously, didn't sit well with the other kids, who came back for seconds. When it was served up, hot n' ready, they came back a third time, with one of the kid's older brother and his friends. Mason still beat them, somehow. It was either an act of God, or those fifth graders were just horribly unfit, but little third-grader Mason still put them in place. That was when his reputation, his _legend_, began.

Pretty soon, the challengers were lining up. Mason did his absolute best to ignore them. They insulted his height (not really an issue anymore, now that he was mere centimeters short of six feet), his constellation-shaped birthmark (which he covered with his choppy bangs), his lack of friends (people didn't exactly wanna run the risk of being collateral just to hang with him), his nerdiness (meaning they were just jealous that he got better grades than all of them), but when they started going after Mabel, that's when the fists started flying. Occasionally, there would be the brave soul that skipped the whole ordeal, and went straight to trying to punch him in the face. Mason left the fewest injuries on them, because at least they had decency.

Come sophomore year of high school, pretty much everyone in Piedmont knew about him. Mason Pines, the kid that lived to brawl. Upperclassmen trying to look cool in front of their crushes, incoming freshmen thinking they were the hottest thing on the block, wannabe-thugs who wanted to cement their status as the top dog- Mason had to deal with all sorts of people throughout the years. Honestly, he was just _tired_ of all the fighting.

Of course, he couldn't very well stop. The world wasn't that nice. So, in freshman year, Mason searched the high school's club directory, and found the perfect one; _boxing._ The coach wasn't impressed with him- a scrawny little brat who averaged a fight a week for nearly six years? It was a surprise Mason wasn't thrown out on his ass immediately after the man learned about his escapades. Apparently, he managed to surprise the man with his impulse control. According to every single one of his reports- and there were many, Mason was honestly shocked Coach McFist went through and read all of them- Mason had _never_ thrown the first punch. Even when those kids were talking all that smack, yelling in his ears, shoving him around and getting all up in his face, he would stand there, arms crossed, in front of Mabel. Like a stoic bulwark, shielding her from the dark underworld of public schools.

McFist liked that. He also liked that Mason was top of his class. So, he gave the boy a chance, and allowed him into the club. Even though there were at least a dozen other members, Coach McFist focused almost solely on Mason. The rest were left to the mercies of the assistant coach, whose name Mason never bothered to learn. When classes ended for the day, and kids were going to their afterschool programs, it was just Mason and McFist. Teacher and student.

If those fools thought Mason had been vicious before, they were wetting themselves by the end of freshman year. He never used what he learned in boxing against the other kids- that was a guaranteed way to get him booted from the club, and just straight up disrespectful to Coach McFist- but the conditioning alone was enough to make him an absolute beast. His speed, agility, footwork, strength. Nobody could lay a hand on him, but they could sure catch his.

The jury was still out on whether the end result- being sent to Gravity Falls- was a bad thing or not, but there was one thing that Mason was sure of; it was definitely worth. He'd do it all again in a heartbeat, if it meant protecting Mabel.

* * *

"_He's looking at it, he's looking at it!" _Mabel whispered, peering over one of the shelves to stare at a boy. Said boy had a piece of paper in his hand.

"Do you like me," he read, "Yes, absolutely, or... Definitely?"

"I rigged it," Mabel told him quietly. The kid dropped the letter, wiped his hands on his jeans, and made a hasty escape from the Mystery Shack. He probably wouldn't be back. Mason had taken a pause from polishing a jar of eyeballs to watch it go down.

"Uh, May, I get that you're going through your whole _boy-crazy_ phase, but don't you think you should tone it down with the crazy part?"

Mabel turned towards her twin, blowing him a raspberry. "C'mon, Dip-Dop! It's our first summer away from home! It's my only chance to have an _Epic Summer Romance~!"_

Mason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get back to cleaning- if we finish early, Stan'll let us out for the afternoon. Maybe you'll have more time to pursue your epic romance."

Mabel slapped her hands to her cheeks, gasping in awe. "Dipper, you're a _genius!_ I'mma clean this place so sparkly-shiny, Grunkle Stan's gonna say, _Mabel, you don't have to clean the Shack ever again,_ and then I can chase boys for the _whole _summer!"

"Um… Sure?" Mason turned back to the eyeballs. "Hope these things aren't real. Then again, considering Stan's the one who got it…" he muttered. One of them blinked, and Mason backed away slowly, fighting down the urge to spew chunks. "Nevermind. I think I know now, and I _really _wish I didn't."

The man himself emerged from the back of the shop, attempting to burp. "Oh, that's not good." He slammed a fist against his chest a few times, belched loudly, then sighed in relief. "Mason, I need you to go out into the creepy part of the woods and hammer up these signs!"

Mason sighed, handing Mabel his spray bottle and rag, switching it for the bedazzler she'd mysteriously conjured up. He handed it to the redhead at the desk, Wendy. A girl a year older than the Pines twins, who was less likely to use it on absolutely anything in her vicinity. "Right. You mean the creepy part, or the _creepy_ part?"

"The _creepy_ part."

Mason dragged a hand down on his face. "Stan, you _know_ how much that place freaks me out."

"I know- That's why I'm sendin' ya there! Ha!" Stan shoved the arrow-shaped signs into his hand. "Now hurry up- I'm not payin' ya to stand around all day."

"Stan, you're not payin' 'em at all," Wendy chortled.

"That's the best part!" the old man cried happily. He slapped Mason hard on the back. "Get to it. There's a hammer and a bucket of nails somewhere out back."

* * *

_CLANG_

Mason jumped back in shock. "What the hell?" he cried. He glanced at his hammer, then back at the tree. It _looked_ like a normal tree, but…

_CLANG CLANG_

It sounded like it was made of metal. Why would there be a completely metal tree in the middle of the forest, designed to perfectly blend in with its surroundings? Well, there was a reason they called this place the _creepy_ part of the woods. Mason ran his hand over the steely bark, and found a little notch in the otherwise smooth surface. He dug his fingers in a bit, and had to tilt back to avoid getting knocked in the head when a compartment swung open. Inside was a bunch of cobwebs, and a dusty old radio.

"The heck…?" Mason flicked the two switches on top, not really expecting it to work. He _also_ didn't expect to hear a mechanical whirring behind him. He spun, fists up, ready to punch anything that came at him, but there was nothing. Instead, Mason saw a hole in the ground- one that hadn't been there just moments before. It was perfectly square. Definitely man-made.

A goat had been chomping the grass right over the hole, and was scared off by the sudden noise. Mason vaguely recognized it as the one that had been on his bed when he'd first entered the attic of the Mystery Shack.

"Sorry, Gompers," he muttered absentmindedly, creeping towards the hole. Mabel had been the one to name it, of course. Inside the compartment was what looked like a book. It was caked in dust and wrapped in cobwebs. A few insects scuttled out of the hole. Hesitantly, Mason reached towards the book, ready to snatch his hand back if, say, the compartment snapped shut, or something underneath the book tried to bite his arm off. Mason sighed in relief when nothing happened as he picked up the book. He turned it over in his hands a few time, blowing and brushing the grime off it, to reveal a gold-inlaid handprint on the front. For some odd reason, it had six fingers. The number 3 sat in the middle of the print, black and bold.

"Whoa…" he breathed, opening the hardened leather cover. He was gentle while turning the pages- no telling how old this thing could be, and paper got super brittle after a few decades. There was a looking glass tied to a string, which was attached to the inside of the spine. On the next page, a note of some sort.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wonderous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon…" Mason flipped the page, and threw caution to the wind, turning the possibly-fragile paper faster and faster. "Floating eyeballs, giant vampire bats, _gnomes_? What _is_ all this…?"

A new note.

"Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed; I'm being _watched!?_ I must hide this book before _he_ finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is _no one_ you can trust." Mason slammed the book shut, ignoring the cloud of dust that exploded into his face. He was too busy trying- and failing- to fight off the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Being _watched…"_ he muttered, glancing around the forest. Suddenly, the shadows seemed too dark, the trees too close together, the silence too ominous. Mason shuddered again, and tucked the Journal into the massive pockets inside his sweater vests. He hammered the last sign in quickly, not even caring that the nail bent and the arrow was pointing the wrong way, and booked it back to the Mystery Shack.

* * *

Mason was sitting on the couch in the living room, hours later, flipping through the Journal. Stan walked into the room, and Mason froze. He couldn't just put the book away- the old man had already seen it, and it would be too suspicious. No, he had to play it cool. Mason casually crossed his legs, resting his right ankle on his left knee, and tilted the book down so the cover was hidden in his shorts.

"Whatcha readin' there, slick?" Stan asked, taking a sip of his Pitt Cola.

Mason glanced up at Stan, acknowledging his presence, before turning back to the Journal. "Ya know- nerd stuff."

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, your parents told me 'bout your grades- most likely to be valedictorian in your year, they said! That, and you're a champion scrapper. Ya got the best a' both worlds, kiddo."

Mason shrugged. "Honestly, I could do with a bit less of the scrapping."

The doorbell rang, and Mabel rushed down the stairs. She was wearing one of her brighter colored sweaters, her skirt was bedazzled- was that _lip gloss?_ She opened the door, and turned to the males in the living room.

"Grunkle Stan, Dipper, I'd like you to meet my new boyfriend!"

The dude was wearing a black hoodie, zipped all the way up despite the summer heat. The hood was covered in twigs and leaves, like he'd had just ran a marathon through the forest. His cheek was splattered with something red. He raised a hand, giving Mason and Stan a wave.

"'Sup," he said.

Mabel grabbed his arm. "We met at the cemetery- he's _really_ deep," she said, staring up at him dreamily.

Mason narrowed his eyes at Mabel's new boyfriend. "So, what's your name?" he asked, trying a bit too hard to be casual. His voice accidentally came out as a growl.

The dude's eyes began darting every which way, and his voice was shaky when he answered. "Normal… _Man!"_

"He means Norman," Mabel covered, acting as if that _wasn't_ the most suspicious thing in the world.

"Right. _Norman,"_ Mason muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. He pointed at the dude's face. "Are you bleeding, Norman?"

Norman quickly wiped away the red dripping down his cheek. "It's jam!" he said, unconvincingly. Mabel seemed to buy it, however.

"Oh my god, I _love_ jam!" she squealed.

"So, you wanna go, hold hands, or whatever?" Norman asked, looking for any excuse to get out of there.

Mabel held up a hand to her mouth, seemingly scandalized. "Oh. Oh my goodness," she whispered. "Don't wait up!" she cried, and nearly ran out the Shack. Norman followed, swaying unsteadily, slamming into the wall every now and then. Mason and Stan watched the two go, then glanced at each other. In that moment, an understanding of men passed between them.

Mason stood, slipping the Journal into his jacket. "Right. I think I'm gonna need to do a bit more scrapping than I planned for this summer."

"Go get that punk, kid."

* * *

_Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these creatures are often mistaken for teenagers. Beware Gravity Falls' nefarious zombies!_

Mason shut the Journal quietly, tucking it away. He'd followed Mabel and "Norman" out into the forest, growing more and more concerned the further they got from town. He was currently hiding behind a tree, not risking poking his head out in case the blue bill of his net-cap gave him away. He was relying entirely of his sense of hearing. If Mabel sounded even the _least_ bit like she was uncomfortable, Mason was running out there and bashing Norman's head in.

The Journal made sense. The random bleeding, the limp, the difficulty doing things that required complex cognitive capabilities- it all added up! Mabel would probably make fun of him for being a conspiracy theorist, but Mason was fine with that. If it kept her safe, he'd do anything. Like stalk her when she's on a date!

He shunted that thought to the side, listening intently when Norman began speaking for longer than five words.

"Mabel… Now that we've gotten to know each other… Hoo. There's something I should tell you."

"Oh, Norman, you can tell me _anything_," Mabel fawned, acting like she was in a b-list movie. Mason nearly cringed.

"Alright, just, don't freak out, okay? Just keep an open mind- be cool!"

Mason heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and only the length of the noise kept him from dashing out. It went on for way too long to be the zipper to a pair of jeans. Norman must've been taking off his sweater.

"Is this weird? Is this too weird? Do you need to sit down?"

Mason chanced peeking around the tree, and almost shouted with shock. He managed to clamp a hand over his mouth, but immediately swung back around the tree. Standing in front of Mabel were five tiny men, stacked on top of each other.

_Gnomes! _Mason screamed in his head. _How the heck did I mistake gnomes for a zombie!? Granted, I've never had experience with either of them, and I guess the horrible coordination could be chalked up to the gnomes acting as limbs being unable to really see, and that time Norman's hand fell off makes sense because it's just a prop, but what the hell!? And why the heck are a bunch of gnomes dressed up as a teenager and trying to date my sister!?_

"Right, I'll explain," the gnome that voiced Norman said. "So, we're gnomes. Just, get that outta the way. I'm Jeff, and here we have Carson, Steve, Jason, and… I'm sorry, I always forget your name. Shmebulock…?"

"Shmebulock!"

"Yes, I got it! Anyways, us gnomes have been lookin' for a new queen! Right guys?"

The gnomes under Jeff began chanting _Queen_. It was really creepy.

"So, what do ya say? Will you join us, in holy matrignomey- I mean, matrimony?"

Mabel hissed. "Look, guys, I'm sorry. You're really sweet, but I'm a girl, and you're gnomes, and it's just like, _What?_ Yikes…"

There was a long moment of awkward silence before Jeff began speaking again. "We understand. We'll never forget you, Mabel- because we're gonna kidnap you." And _that_ was Mason's cue to jump in. He bolted out from his hiding spot, and crossed the distance between him and Mabel in moments. Just in time to catch the gnome he assumed was Jeff, who was flying through the air and about to latch onto Mabel's face. Mason grabbed Jeff by his copious facial hair and spiked him at the ground like a football, then placed a booted foot on the gnome. He turned to the other gnomes, who froze upon his arrival, and snarled at them.

"You little munchkins better turn around and head right back into that forest, or Jeff here's gonna become some fresh gnome jam." He applied more pressure to Jeff, who squeaked in fear.

"G-guys! Do what the crazy hugeling says! I don't wanna be jam!" he cried, grappling desperately with the massive leg.

"I love jam," Mabel whispered unhelpfully, hands squishing her cheeks in confused horror.

The gnomes scurried off into the forest, and Mason waited until he couldn't hear the snapping of twigs and rustling of grass, before taking his foot off Jeff. However, he quickly snatched the gnome up by his beard, and lifted him to look him in the eye.

"Listen here, Jeff. You the leader of the gnome colony or whatever in these woods?"

"Uh, y-yeah?"

"Alright, good. Then, spread the word to your little buddies- you _ever_ come after my sister again, and I crush the skulls of every single one of you that I can get my hands on." Jeff nodded as much as he could with his tiny neck. Satisfied, Mason turned to Mabel. "Wanna do the honors?" he asked, making a kicking gesture with his leg. Mabel nodded excitedly. "Alright, on three. One, two, _three!_" He dropped Jeff, and Mabel punted the little man as hard as he could. The gnome disappeared into the forest, screaming in pain.

"That's for breaking my heart!" Mabel shouted after him, and then started giggling. She looked a bit too happy for someone whose heart was apparently broken. "Thanks for the help, Dipper."

"Anything for my little sister."

"Hey, I'm five minutes older!"

"Yeah, you're also five feet shorter," Mason teased, gesturing to the gap between the top of his head and hers. It was only about one foot, but her indignant pouting was too funny. Mason laughed boldly, the sound bouncing off the trees, and soon, Mabel joined him. They trailed off after a while, and started to walk back to the Mystery Shack. Mabel seemed a bit down, so Mason slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a comforting side-hug.

"Hey, so you had one bad experience with a boyfriend- that doesn't mean you're gonna suck butt at relationships for the rest of your life. There's plenty of gnomes in the forest, May."

"Don't you mean there's plenty of fish in the sea?" Mabel asked, grinning up at him, braces on full display.

"Nah. It'll be, like, an inside joke. Something only we know- us two Mystery Twins."

"Mystery Twins?" Her eyes were sparkling at the new nickname.

"Yeah. There's a ton of crazy stuff out here in Gravity Falls, and I'm gonna need some help trying to get through it all. So; Mystery Twins?" he asked, holding up a fist. Mabel bumped her fist against his.

"Mystery Twins!"

* * *

**I was working on my Danny Phantom fic, but it got a **_**bit**_ **too depressing, so I started this on impulse. This is a mutation of the Fight Falls AU, where most everything stays the same, except Dipper and Mabel are hardcore fighters (although Dipper is the only doing any fighting). Dipper prefers going by his actual name, which is Mason, in this. Only Mabel calls him Dipper. The twins, and any other kids in the series, are fifteen. Obviously, Dipper's a lot taller and stronger, and overall cooler. Doesn't mean he's gonna be a musclehead- he's just gonna be a nerd that has a lot more to work with, so to speak. Don't expect things to pan out the same as in canon. Duh.**


	2. Chapter 2

_How did I end up like this_.

"I feel like all my other senses have been heightened… I can see with my _fingers!_" To prove her point, Mabel stuck her hands into Mason's face, tickling him.

"Cut it out, May!" he said, swatting her away while chuckling a bit. The car hit another bump, and Mason's head slammed into the roof. "Ow! Stan, are you sure _you're_ not wearing a blindfold, too?" he asked, tugging at the cloth wrapped around his eyes. He hadn't wanted to wear one, but then Mabel gave him the sad puppy dog eyes, and the rest, as they say, is history.

"Course not, kid. Although, with these cataracts, I may as well be!"

The car crashed into something, and the sound of wood breaking surrounded the vehicle. Stan just laughed, while Mason sighed.

"Guess I'm dying today."

* * *

Old Man McGucket, who'd been spouting off about seeing some thing called the _Gravity Falls Gobblewonker_ was being chased away from the lake by his son, but Mason was too busy sharing a conspiratorial smirk with his twin to notice how cold that was.

Mabel held up a fist. "Mystery Twins stuff?"

Mason returned the gesture. "Mystery Twins stuff," he confirmed, grinning. He immediately went up to their Great Uncle. "Hey, Stan. Hows about a little change in plans?"

The old man eyed his grand-nephew warily. "Whatcha got in mind, kid?"

"You like money, right?"

Stan perked up a bit. "Yeah, course I do! What're ya, blind?"

"_No, but with these cataracts, I may as well be!"_ Mason snarked. Stan winced.

"Hey, I'm still perfectly capable of driving!" Stan defended weakly.

"That wooden guard rail would beg to differ. If it wasn't, ya know, in a million pieces," Mabel chimed in. Stan grumbled at that.

"Fine. Whaddaya want?"

"You could probably turn a quick buck by scrounging the dirt over there, and selling the worms you find. Make up some lie about how they're specially bred to produce pheromones that spread real quick through water, attracting fish faster than normal. If they call you on it, just say the fish would've taken way longer to bite if they used 'regular' worms. Not like they can prove it."

Stan turned the idea over in his head a few times, before climbing out of his boat, onto the dock. "That's actually a brilliant idea, kid. No wonder you're top of your class." He patted Mason on the shoulder. "Guess you kids wanna take the boat, then?"

"Don't worry, we won't break it. At least, not any worse than you would," Mason teased, playfully pushing Stan towards the beach.

"I resemble that remark."

* * *

It was remarkably peaceful, Mason mused, rowing out over this foggy lake with himself, his twin, and the afternoon sun overhead. At least, it was until Mabel started trying to slap stickers on him.

"_Mabel~"_ he whined, setting down the oars to make a futile attempt at protecting himself. His sister was vicious with those things. "Why'd you even bring stickers out here?"

"Why'd you bring your nerd book out here?" she shot back, slapping a smiley face on his forehead. He felt the weight of Journal 3 in his vest.

"Alright, fair. Let's take a break, I guess- wonder if there's an entry in here about the Gobblewonker." While Mason flipped through the book, Mabel continued pasting scratch-n-sniffs to him. He found absolutely nothing about the creature they were looking for. In fact, there wasn't even anything about Lake Gravity Falls. However, something _did_ catch his interest. "Dream demons? Cipher? The _heck…?_"

"What's up, Dippin' Dots?" Wordlessly, Mason turned the Journal to Mabel, tapping on the entry. "Whoa, _demon summoning!?_ We gotta do it!"

Mason shrugged. "Maybe. I dunno… There's not really any warning in here, and the fact that the entire ritual is included makes me wonder if the Author tried it. Maybe they did, and decided it wasn't that dangerous? Otherwise, they probably would've ripped it out, or scribbled on it, or _something_. It's not the last entry, either, so it's not like summoning this triangle dude was the last thing they ever did… Hopefully."

"Aw, c'mon, Dipper! This totally falls under Mystery Twins stuff!" Mabel cried, pulling her arms into her pink sweater and flapping the fluffy sleeves at him. Mason grabbed the sleeves and tied them together, leaving Mabel staring blankly at her fashionable straitjacket. He chuckled.

"Don't worry, May. We'll check it out for sure, but be a little patient, alright? We gotta gather all the ritual stuff first, and we're not gonna find it out here in the middle of the water. Like, what the heck is a jar of _percepshroom jelly?_ That sounds so gross."

"Totally gross!"

"Like, the grossest." The twins glanced at each other, and busted out laughing. "Alright, 'nuff messin' around. We got a Gobblewonker to find." Mason picked up the oars, and they began moving towards Scuttlebutt Island again.

"Wait, Dipper, can you untie me?"

"Promise not to try putting stickers on me?"

"There is no try, only do or do not!" Mason stared at her pointedly. "...No."

"Then suffer." He went back to rowing, doing his best to block out Mabel's caterwauling.

* * *

Scuttlebutt Island was super spooky. It gave him chills. Mason dragged the boat far up onto the beach, so the tide wouldn't wash it out and leave them stranded. Mabel was already running around, absorbing the atmosphere.

"This place is so freaky- I love it!" she screamed, voice echoing through the fog. Mason heard crows squawking, their day disturbed by the maelstrom of color that was his sister.

"Calm down, May," Mason called to her. "You probably don't wanna draw the attention of whatever the heck manages to survive on a creepy island like this."

"Oh, oh, you wanna sneak around like secret agents?" Mabel asked, hopping up and down. She realized that secret agents didn't do that, and instead dropped into a walking crouch, arms spread wide for balance, glancing every which way suspiciously. Mason smiled, and followed suit.

Mabel pressed her index and middle finger up against her ear. "Krschk! Nerd One, this is Glitter One, do you copy? Over. Krschk!"

Mason rolled his eyes. "Krschk! Nerd One to Glitter One. I copy, over. Krschk!"

"Krschk! Nerd One, I don't see anything. Repeat, no sign of the Gobblewonker, over. Krschk!"

"Krschk! Glitter One, we haven't even left the beach yet. Move further inland, over Krschk!"

"Oh, that makes sense! Uh, I mean, krschk! Nerd One, that makes sense, over. Krschk!"

The Mystery Twins followed the fog-layered trail that cut through the island, stalking the entire while like the secret agents they actually were and totally not pretending to be. It was the ominous roar that broke them out of their game.

"Uh, Dipper, did you hear that?"

"Loud and clear, May. Doesn't sound like whatever made it is close, but that means it must be huge to produce such a loud noise."

"...Do we dare approach the behemoth? Ah, who am I kiddin', of _course_ we do!" Mabel cheered, standing upright and skipping further along the path. Mason followed at a relaxed jog, and soon enough, they reached the other side, and were looking out over the other end of Lake Gravity Falls. There, in the murky waters, swam something large. It had a round body, four triangular protrusions that were probably fins, a lengthy tail, and a _very_ long neck.

"Whoa…" Mason whispered. He instantly whipped out the Journal, opening it to a blank page, and pulled a pencil out from another pocket. He quickly titled the page, drawing a quick outline of the Gobblewonker. He'd need to observe it more to make out any of the little details, like how many eyes it had, or if it had antennae. Did it have round teeth, or sharp teeth? What color was it? Did it have the classic reptilian forked tongue? Actually, _was_ it even a reptile? It could just as easily be an amphibian, or maybe even a land mammal going for a nice, refreshing swim! Ah, so many questions!

"Dipper, this is so cool!" Mabel said quietly, nearly vibrating in place from excitement.

"I know!" Mason whispered back, clearly just as, if not _more_, enthusiastic. "Ah, I wish we could see it closer, but that thing would probably kill us, so don't… Mabel? _Mabel?_" The girl was gone from next to him, and a quick survey of the area revealed she was running down the beach, waving her arms wildly and screaming her head off.

"Hey, Mr. Gobblewonker, ya wanna come closer!? My Bro Bro wants to draw your majesticness!" she yelled.

"Oh no." Mason tucked the Journal and pencil away, and rushed to grab his sister. Unfortunately, it looked like he might be a second too late. He was slower on land than the monster was in the water. The submerged silhouette approached the beach rapidly, and reached land within moments. A titanic neck emerged, towering over the twins like a building. The elongated head dipped down, only stopping when it was a mere foot away from Mabel, staring at her with glowing yellow eyes. Mabel giggled, then reached out, pressing her palm against the Gobblewonker's nose.

"Bop!"

The monster _roared_, and the twins screamed in sync. Mabel instantly regretted every single decision in her entire life that led up to this moment. The head reared back, lashing out at Mabel fast as lightning, who was standing stock-still and Mason was right next to her but he couldn't do anything against something that size and Mabel was gonna get _eaten right in front of him what did he do-_

Mason's mind cleared, and he did what came naturally; he punched the thing. His fist slammed into the scaly jaw, and the reptilian head was blown aside. For a long moment, Mason stared at the place where his death had hovered mere moments ago, bearing down on him, before he decided to ignore it. Turning around, he scooped up Mabel in a princess-carry, and bolted back to the other side of the island, trying desperately to ignore the angry roaring and rumbling of the ground as the Gobblewonker came after them.

"Dipper what the heck did you just do!?"

"I don't know!"

"You punched that huge thing aside like it was nothing! How the heck'd you do that!?"

"_I don't know!_"

"Why are your eyes all red!?"

"_I DON'T KNOW!"_ Mason screamed, not quite registering that last bit. All he knew was that he was somehow running faster than the top track star of Piedmont High, and not even breaking a sweat. They were at the original beach before he knew it, and Mason literally _threw_ Mabel into the Stan-O-War. The girl didn't complain, more focused on staring at the forest behind Mason, watching as tree after tree fell down, the head of the monster rising taller than the thousand-year-old pines. Mason shoved the boat into the water, turning it around with a good shove, and jumped in. He'd been rowing earlier in case they needed the gas to make a getaway- _like right now!_\- so he finally turned on the engine, yanking the ripcord only a single time before it puttered to life.

"Come on, come on, c'mon," he muttered, mentally urging the thing to go faster. Apparently, wanting it enough worked. The engine sparked with red static, and suddenly, the front of the boat was lifting in the air. They blasted across the lake like they were being propelled by a jet engine, and the terrified screams of the twin rang out across the entirety of Lake Gravity Falls.

* * *

When Mason came to, he was lying face down in sand. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, spitting to get the grains out of his mouth.

"Ugh, my teeth are gonna be crunchy for _days_," he groused, shaking his hair out, hardly noticing that his hat was gone. He managed to rise unsteadily, and glanced around with tired eyes. It was approaching evening, and there was destruction all around him. A massive gouge had been cut into the beach, the source likely the boat at the end of it. Broken wood planks and scrap metal littered the area, some bits still steaming or on fire. Stumbling around, he noticed a brown lump on the ground nearby.

"Mabel!" he cried, limping over. He dropped to the ground next to his sister, pushing her onto her back. He quickly checked her pulse and breathing, both of which were strong. There was a line of blood trickling down her temple, but it was nearly inconsequential. Head wounds always bled the worse, so if there was only this much crimson, the damage must've been minimal. Still, internal damage was entirely possible, so he quickly woke the girl up, shaking her shoulders. "Mabel, wake up!"

"Hnngh, not now, Chazwick. You can sweep me off my feet in five minutes, okay, handsome?"

Mason nearly recoiled in disgust, but stuck it out. "Mabel, it's Mason!" The girl's eyes cracked open.

"...Dipper?" she muttered. With a groan, she closed her eyes, rolling onto her side. "Five more… Hey, wait a minute, this isn't my bed. Unless, we own a private beach now so I'm allowed to sleep here!" Mabel shot up, looking around excitedly, only to deflate upon seeing the destruction.

"Mabel, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Um, purple?"

"Close enough. What's the last thing you remember?"

Mabel clenched her eyes, humming in concentration, before popping up, hands waving wildly. "Dipper, you totally just punched the Gobblewonker in the face!"

Mason sighed in relief. She was about as coherent as Mabel could be, her pupils weren't super-dilated or unfocused, and her memory wasn't too messed up. It looked like she didn't have a concussion. "Mabel, I think we hit the beach too fast, and we got knocked out. Look, the boat's a wreck." He pointed at the marooned Stan-O-War, and the engine coughed up a smoke cloud, before going silent. He saluted the sailboat, grateful for its services.

Meanwhile, the Stan-Not-Of-War came running up. "I leave you kids alone for a few hours, and _this_ is what you get up to!? My boat's _destroyed! _What happened to not breaking it!?"

"Hey, I said we wouldn't break it worse that you would. Besides, I know for a fact you definitely made enough cash from scamming people to buy a new boat."

Stan grumbled, patting the bulging pockets of his vest jacket. "Well, there's not really much point in buying a new one, since we're _banned_ thanks to you knuckleheads."

Mason shrugged. "I've had enough of lakes for my lifetime."

"Seconded!" Mabel cried, standing up way too fast. "Ooh, blood rushing to my head! Not a good idea!" She fell back onto her butt, head swaying in a circle. Mason laughed, scooping his sister up in his arms.

"Alright, let's get back to the Shack and call it a day."

Stan crossed his arms grumpily. "Ya know, I came out here to spend time with you kids, not fleece rubes- not that I'll pass up the chance, mind you, but it's the principle of the thing!"

"Look at it this way, Stan; I scammed you out of a boat, and you scammed those tourists out of their livelihood. We were bonding by virtue of fleecing rubes!"

"You callin' me a rube?"

"...Maybe."

Stan laughed uproariously. He slapped Mason on the back so hard, Mabel almost went spilling out of his hold. The girl shrieked, latching onto her twin with a vice grip.

"Mabel, can't… _Breathe!"_

"Oops! Sorry, Broseph."

The old man wiped a tear from his eye, holding his aching gut. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

* * *

"Hey, so, since I made an unexpected amount of cash today, how about you two kids take one thing from the Shack? Consider it compensation for giving me such a good idea."

Mabel, who had ordered Mason to continue carrying her even after she'd recovered enough to walk on her own, jumped down from her perch on his back. She began running around the gift shop at light speed, examining the curious faster than the eye could see. Mason, meanwhile, walked up to the shelves lining the wall next to the entrance. On one sat a row of hats. They were white, with a blue mesh back, and a blue pine tree logo. Mason grabbed on, shoving it on his head, tapping the brim in satisfaction. He hadn't found his old one back at the beach, so he had to leave it behind, no matter how much it stung. Sure, it was just a hat, but he'd had it for _years_. To have just _lost_ it like that…

Mabel's gasp distracted him from his reminiscing. He turned around, to see only her lower half sticking out of a huge box, legs wiggling like worms. Eventually, the entire box tipped over with a terrible _CRASH_, scaring the daylights out of Mason. He could've sworn Stan had a heart attack, if the old man's sudden need to sit down was any indication. Mabel finally extricated herself from the mess, holding up her hard-earned prize.

"Grappling hook!" she bellowed. Aiming it up at the ceiling, she pulled the trigger, and was pulled up into the rafters moments later. Mason shuddered at the havoc she would no doubt cause in the future. When the girl descended back to the ground, he walked over and gently took it from her.

"Right, I think that's enough for tonight. You can play with it tomorrow. Night, Stan."

"Good night, Grunkle Stan!"

"Night, kids. Try not to break anything else, would ya?"

"No promises."

* * *

**I didn't make the Gobblewonker be the fake piloted by McGucket, because I didn't really feel like incorporating that whole lesson about spending time with family. Stan's a grumpy old man, not a big ol' softie. Plus, meeting the real Gobblewonker is just way cooler. Sorry I haven't introduced Soos yet. I promise he'll pop up soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, dudes!" Soos cried, skidding into the living room. "You'll never guess what I found!"

"Buried treasure?" Mason asked instantly.

"Buried- aw!" Mabel socked him in the shoulder, just a step behind him. "Is it buried treasure though, Soos?"

"Nah. It's way weirder. I was cleaning up, and I found this _secret door_ behind the wallpaper!" The two teens got up to follow Soos. Mason was a bit wary when they started heading down a dark, dusty hall.

"Yeesh. When was the last time this place got a good dusting?" he asked, fighting off the urge to sneeze.

"I dunno, maybe a decade or two? Nobody goes back here, so there wasn't really a point. I just had some free time today. Anyways, it's right here." Soos stood in front of the door, which was covered with ripped wallpaper, like he said. The man pushed it open, ushering the teens inside. Mason dug a flashlight out his jacket pocket- blackouts were common when it rained in Gravity Falls, and it rained a _lot_, so he learned to always be prepared. Flicking it on, Mason instantly clamped a hand down on Mabel's shoulder, keeping her from wandering in too deep.

"Mabel, those are wax figures. _Very realistic_ wax figures- ten bucks says they're probably alive somehow. I _really_ don't think it's a good idea to just wander around in here willy-nilly."

"Aw, come _on_, Bro Bro! Aren't we the Mystery Twins? And doesn't this fall under the category of Mystery Twins Stuff?" She looked up at him with her big, watery, pleading eyes, pushing her lips into a pout, and Mason sighed.

"...I guess. Fine, we can look around a _bit_, but you have to stick close to me." He glanced around, and grabbed the spare broom next to the door. With a quick flick of his wrist, he unscrewed the bristle, leaving him with a wooden pole in his hands. Armed with a stick in one hand, and a flashlight in the other, he crept forward. "Soos, cover our six."

"Got you, Broheem."

The trio stepped into the room, walking slowly. Mason did a quick scan of the floor searching for any obstacles or holes in the wood planks, before turning the light back in front of him.

"Hello!" They screamed, scrambling back. Mason swung sloppily with the broom handle, causing the figure to leap back. "Whoa, whoa, it's me, your Grunkle Stan! Watch where ya swing that thing!"

Mason stopped trying to knock his head off, heart hammering in his chest, and pointed the flashlight directly at the old man's face. True to word, it was Stan. The man walked to one of the walls, flicking on a light switch. Mason stowed away his flashlight, preserving the batteries.

"Welcome to the Gravity Falls Wax Museum! It was one of my most popular attractions!"

"So why's it all locked up in this dusty old room?" Soos asked, poking one of the wax figures in the face.

"Uh… I forgot about it? Anyways, that's not important." Mason and Mabel exchanged wary looks, not liking how the man skipped over that information. "We've got everything here! Genghis Khan, Sherlock Holmes… Some sorta, goblin man?"

"Isn't that Larry King?" Mabel whispered to Mason. He nodded.

"And _here's_ my fav- what!? Oh, ah, c'mon! Who left the blinds open!?" Stan cried, hands gesturing at the melted pile of wax. "Poor ol' Wax Abe Lincoln… Wax John Wilkes Booth, I'm lookin' at _you!"_

"Ooh, ooh, I can totally fix it!" Mabel cried, sticking in hand in the air, waiting for Stan to call on her.

"You can?"

"Grunkle Stan, I am an arts and craft master! Haven't you seen my super cute sweaters? I made them all by hand!"

Stan nodded, apparently impressed. "Kid, ya got gumption, I'll give ya that. Alright, you can take a crack at it if you want.

* * *

"Dipper!" Mabel called, summoning Mason from his spot on the couch. He walked over to where she was sitting in front of a massive block of hardened wax, a pink beret on her head.

"What's up, May?"

"Whaddaya think of my wax figure idea?" she asked, holding up her notebook. "She's part fairy princess, and part _horse_ fairy princess."

Mason chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Maybe you should try for something more realistic."

"Ooh, what about a waffle, with really beefy arms! Like, I'm talkin' biceps bigger than your head!" She flipped the page, and lo and behold, there it was; a waffle with massive arms.

"I meant, actual people, like, uh…" At that moment, Stan walked into the room. He set a foot down on a briefcase that was lying on the floor, a hand up to his eyes as he glanced around the room. He looked like a true adventurer. The image would've been a lot cooler if the old man wasn't wearing just boxers on his lower half.

"Kids, have you seen my pants?"

* * *

A few days later, Mason was sitting next to Wendy at a folding table outside the Shack. People were lining up to put their money in an admission box in front of the redhead, and entered the Mystery Shack to get a look at the newly reopened Wax Museum of Mystery, the Eight Wonder of the World!

"I wonder how your uncle got this many people to show up," Wendy muttered, nudging Mason's arm. He shrugged.

"I'd say he bribed 'em, but I know Stan's too cheap for that."

"Really? He bribed me," Wendy said, pulling a five dollar bill out the breast pocket of her flannel shirt. Mason pulled one out of his jacket pocket. The two giggled.

"Aren't you from the big city?" Wendy asked, leaning back in her folding chair. "How'd you end up out in the Sticks?"

"Yeah, Piedmont. As for how… Well, when ya end up in thirty-plus fights in a single school year, your parents gotta do _somethin' _to punish ya."

"Seriously dude? _Thirty? _Do you just have goons lining up around the block to get a swing in?"

"Yup. I'm irresistible like that."

"Oh no," Wendy said robotically, grabbing her wrist with the other. Her restrained hand was slowly making its way over to Mason. "Must… Sock… Dipper… In face!"

Mason smiled tightly. "Nah, it's not really like that. Call me Mason, by the way."

"What, don't like someone else usin' your sister's pet name?"

"Kinda. It sounds weird. I'm not used to it from anyone other than her."

Wendy nodded. "Fair enough, _Mason_. How the heck do you end up in all those fights, then?"

"You know how Mabel is, right? Well, she doesn't exactly fit in that well at Piedmont High..."

"Bro, she's like the awesomest girl-dude I know. You sayin' those chumps were tryin' to pick on her?"

"Yeah. They never seem to get the message if they're not the ones learning it firsthand."

"Nice. But also, not cool that they're bullying her in the first place. I'd totally kick butt for Mabel, too."

Mason smiled at her. "Well, I'd rather you didn't have to, but considering how Gravity Falls is… You should totally hang with us the next time we go on a cryptid hunt!"

"You guys go cryptid hunting? Super cool, dude."

"Yeah, man. Me and Mabel are the Mystery Twins, but we could totally make an exception and become, like, the Mystery Trio if you're down."

"Heck yeah, man! I'm way down! When's the next hunt?"

"Ah, we don't really have a set time for these things. We just go whenever we hear about something cool. But, I'll let you know before we leave on the next one?"

"Awesome. I'm not always hangin' around the Shack, though- I got a life. Why don't we exchange numbers, so you can hit me up if you need to?"

Mason shrugged. "Alright." The two swapped phones, tested the numbers, then put the devices away. "So, you've been in Gravity Falls for a while, right?"

"Try all my life, dude."

"What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen?"

"Ah, man, that's a tough one! There's so much to choose from… Well, there was this one time when I was at a selkie shindig, even though my parents said I couldn't go...

* * *

**Mason:** lmao Stan got murdered

**Wendy:** dude wat?

**Mason:** my b

**Mason: **not like, STAN stan

**Mason: **but we just found wax stan in the living room with his head cut off

**Mason: **and mabel found an axe behind the couch

**Mason: **so now she thinks your dad did it, cuz he was mad that there wasnt any free pizza

**Mason: **mad enough for murder, she said

**Mason: **shits wild

**Wendy:** oooohhh

**Wendy:** dude, i was actually worried my boss got killed

**Wendy:** i was flippin out yo

**Wendy:** i was like

**Wendy:** how am i gonna make money this summer without him?

**Mason:** lol ofc thats what youre worried about

**Wendy:** yeah man

**Wendy:** priorities

**Wendy:** anyway, keep me updated on the hunt for wax stan's murderer?

**Mason:** yuh

**Mason:** we're actually going down to some hardcore biker bar where soos said your dad hangs a lot

**Mason:** well

**Mason:** mabels going

**Mason:** im just following to make sure she doesnt get caught up in a bar fight or smthn

**Wendy:** i feel like i should be offended that my dads a suspect

**Wendy:** but this is totally something he would do

**Mason:** kill somebody?

**Wendy:** NO

**Wendy:** i mean destroy property

**Wendy:** hes done it before, so i honestly wouldnt be surprised if hes the culprit

**Wendy:** if he is though

**Wendy:** please dont file a lawsuit

**Wendy:** itll be like the fifth one this year

**Wendy:** plz

**Mason:** i cant really promise anything

**Mason:** stans super upset

**Mason:** hes holding a memorial tonight

**Mason:** talk later, entering the bar now

**Mason:** fingers crossed your dad doesnt break all my bones

**Mason:** that dude scares me

**Wendy:** good luck dude

**Wendy:** try not to die before you take me on at least one cryptid hunt :p

* * *

**Mason:** YOOOOO

**Mason:** YO YO

**Mason:** WTFFFFFFFFFF

**Wendy:** ?

**Wendy:** u good?

**Mason:** bro ur dad is so fuckin scaryyyyyyyyyyyy

**Mason:** there was this arm wrestling machine in the bar

**Mason:** and i showed the axe to your dad

**Mason:** and he was so insulted that i would accuse him of using a left handed axe he ripped the arm off the robot and started beating it over the head with it

**Mason:** !1!

**Mason:** im deadass traumatized my dude

**Wendy:** lmao yeah he tends to have that effect on people

**Mason:** my respect for you has risen like

**Mason:** 1000%

**Wendy:** by the way

**Wendy:** what was mabel doing?

**Mason:** oh she was doing those fold up paper fortune teller things with some beefy dude at the bar

**Wendy:** wait for real

**Mason:** yeah man

**Mason:** she wild

**Mason:** dude got a pretty good fortune at least

**Mason:** apparently, his wife will be beautiful, but thats all he got to know

**Mason:** when we were running out the bar, i heard him scream

**Mason:** BUT WILL SHE LOVE ME?

**Wendy:** wait i just realized

**Wendy:** how the heck did you guys get in a bar in the first place?

**Mason:** fake ids

**Wendy:** ?

**Mason:** stan

**Wendy:** ohhh

**Mason:** i hate that just his name explains everything lmao

**Wendy:** i think its great

**Mason:** ofc

**Mason:** brb boutta go raid toby determineds house with the sheriff

**Wendy:** dafuq?

**Wendy:** mason?

* * *

**Mason:** i have

**Mason:** many ragrets

**Wendy:** uh

**Mason:** end my suffering

**Mason:** plz

**Wendy:** i mean

**Wendy:** sure

**Wendy:** but can i at least know why?

**Mason:** we just looked at the security tapes for toby determineds offices to see if he was there at the time of the murder

**Mason:** and we got to see him making out with a cardboard cutout of shandra jimenez

**Wendy:** aw dude sick

**Wendy:** the image just popped up in my head and now i need brain bleach

**Mason:** AT LEAST YOU DIDNT ACTUALLY SEE IT

**Mason:** ;_;

**Wendy:** wanna do a horror movie marathon at the shack to try and forget it?

**Wendy:** next best thing to just washing it away with alcohol

**Mason:** at this point i'll try anything

**Mason:** stans holding the memorial soon, if you wanna come over now?

**Wendy:** aight, omw

* * *

Mason, Mabel, Wendy, and Soos had front row seats at the memorial. They were also the only humans in attendance, aside from the host himself. The other seats were occupied by the wax figures. Stan stepped up to the podium.

"Kids. Soos. Lifeless wax figures. Thank you all for coming," Stan said, voice thick with emotion. "Some people might say it's wrong, for a man to love a wax replica of themselves."

Soos jumped out of his seat. "They're wrong!" he shouted.

"Easy, Soos." He turned to the figure in the coffin. "Wax Stan, I hope you're pickin' pockets in Wax Heaven." The old man wiped out his eye, then ran out the room. "I'm sorry, I got glitter in my eye!"

"Aw, dude…" Soos ran after him, leaving the three teens alone with a dozen wax figures. Not creepy at all. They walked up to the coffin, staring down at headless Stan. Mason, who was standing towards the foot of the coffin, noticed something.

"Hey, why does Wax Stan's shoe have a hole in it?"

"All the wax guys have that," Mabel said. "It's where the pole-thingies attach to their stand-dealies."

Mason narrowed his eyes. "Wait, didn't the footprints in the living room have the same hole? And the axe didn't have fingerprints on it, but neither do…"

"Neither do we, dear boy."

The teens whirled around, and came face-to-face with Wax Sherlock Holmes, who was standing straight, when he'd been left leaning against a chair. All around them, the other wax figures were starting to rise as well, stretching out the kinks from being stationary for who knows how long.

"Wax Sherlock Holmes, Wax Shakespeare, Wax… Coolio?"

"'Sup, Holmes?"

Mason stepped forward, getting into his boxing stance, something he never did outside the ring. It felt weird, to do it in this cabin in the woods hundreds of miles North, but he could probably make an exception. Wendy grabbed the axe Mable was still holding, twirling it around in her hands to get a feel for it.

"Aw, left-handed?" she grumbled. Still, she looked every bit as fierce as her beast of a father.

"How are you alive?" Mason growled, shifting back and forth on his feet, ready to move.

"Are you _magic?_" Mabel asked, awed by the possibility. Holmes scoffed.

"Magic? No, we're _cursed_. Every night, when the moon is waxing, we are destined to come alive. Your uncle purchased us-"

"Ya mean _stole _us," Wax Coolio interrupted.

"Yes, _stole_ us, from a garage sale, many years ago. We became part of the Wax Museum of Mystery. For a while, life was good; we stood around in the day, and we ruled the night, doing as we pleased. Eventually, though, our novelty wore off. The Museum wasn't pulling in the big bucks like it used to, and your uncle closed up shop. It's been _ten. Long. Years._ Even when we were finally free to take our revenge…" Wax Holmes pulled the head of Wax Stan out from inside his coat. "We got the wrong guy. And now that you know our secret, you must die as well."

The eyes of the wax figures rolled up into the back of their head, and they began shambling forward like zombies. Mason glanced at Wendy.

"You get the right, I get the left?"

"You know it, dude."

Mason charged forward, and slammed his fist right into Wax Richard Nixon's face. The lit fireplace on the far side of the room heated the wax up to the perfect point, where just enough force would tear it apart. Mason was more than happy to provide that force, and ripped a hole straight through Nixon's head. Wax Queen Elizabeth the Second came at him with a tea cup, but a hook sent her jaw flying, while a jab turned what remained of her head into mush. Mason kicked her corpse into Wax Robin Hood as a distraction, then put up his guard to block a heavy punch from the beefy Wax Genghis Khan, his bones rattling under his skin.

Grimacing, Mason pushed the pain aside. He slipped past Khan's next punch, then buried his fist in his stomach. Unfortunately, since Genghis Khan was much larger than his comrades, Mason's fist didn't go far through the still-hard wax, so he was left vulnerable to a double hammer arm from above, smashing him into the floorboards. Rolling to the side instantly, he avoided Wax Groucho Marx's stomp where his head had been. He grabbed Marx's leg, pulling harshly on it and sending the figure to the floor. Mason jumped up and returned the favor, his boot going through Marx's waxy skull, pulverizing his head.

Mason was sent flying back by Genghis Khan, who tackled him to the ground. While they were falling, Mason glanced back, and saw that the fireplace was right there. So, he allowed himself to be thrown down, in favor of kicking up with both legs, sending Genghis Khan flying into the flames. He screamed as he burned, distracting Wax Robin Hood, who received an uppercut to the chin, shearing off the front half of his head. He fell back, leaving Mason faced with only Wax Sherlock Holmes, who plucked a real metal sword from the wall, brandishing it at the teen.

"I'll admit, boy. What you lack in analytical skill, you make up for in pure combat prowess. However, don't think you'll be able to win when I'm the one with the weapon." Despite the situation, Mason couldn't help but grin. He held his arms up in a peekaboo guard, staring Holmes in the eye through the gap.

"Guess you never got the memo; a boxer's _fists _are his weapons!"

* * *

Wendy had to admit; when she got invited by Mason to come hang out at the Shack, she'd expected to watch movies. _Not _decapitate Coolio with a left-handed axe. Sure, it was a lot cooler (except the axe part. She shuddered at the thought of what her dad would say if he ever heard about this), but also _way_ creepier. Wendy didn't know if she'd ever sleep the same again. Luckily, she managed to finish her opponents off pretty quickly, her axe slicing through them like a hot knife through butter- or, like an axe in a slightly-above room temperature place through partially melted wax. Point is, they didn't last long. It was only a matter of, at most, ten chops, and she'd decapitated all her waxy enemies. Just in time to turn and watch Mason face off against Wax Sherlock Holmes.

She was super surprised when Mason's chocolate-brown eyes turned a vivid scarlet, and red electricity begin to spark off his limbs. His grin, mostly hidden behind his raised guard, seemed to be filled with suspiciously sharp teeth. Suddenly, he was blurring into motion, each step moving him so fast it was like he was gliding over the floor. He sidestepped the first jab from Holmes' sword, ducked under the return swing, then punched out at the hand holding the blade. His fist severed Holmes' wrist so cleanly, it was as if Mason was the one with the weapon.

Before the sword could even hit the ground, Mason spun around the still-outstretched arms to get up in Holmes' face, and buried his fist elbow-deep in the wax figure's head. He jumped back, and Wax Sherlock Holmes fell to the ground, dead. Mason breathed out harshly, and the lightning surrounding him died down. When he glanced at the girls, his eyes were back to their warm brown.

"You two alright?" he asked, straightening up.

"Oh man, that was so _cool_, Dipper!" Mabel shrieked. She mimicked his boxing stance, and started shadow-boxing. "You were all _boom!_ And _pow!_ And some'a this, and some'a _that! _Oh, and your eyes did the thing again."

Mason furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "The thing?"

"Yeah, like when you punched the Gobblewonker in the face! They started glowing red, and then you were moving, like, crazy fast!"

Mason glanced at his hands, which looked mostly the same, other than being covered in hardening wax. "I… Have no clue what you're talking about. I don't remember feeling any different. I mean, I guess my mind suddenly got clear when I was facing Holmes, but other than that…"

Mabel slapped her hands to her face, gasping. "What if you have Ultra Instinct!?"

"...Is this some pop culture reference that I'm not gonna understand?"

"Probably."

"Alright. Just, stop talking for now, okay May? I'm, like, really tired all of a sudden."

Stan chose this time to enter the room. "What the heck happened to my parlor!? Hey, my head!"

* * *

**Suggestions for pairings? I'm a sucker for romance, so I literally cannot write a fanfic without **_**some**_ **sort of romance. I guess that makes me kinda like Mabel lmao. That should be fun.**

**Height comparisons, just cuz;**

**Stan- 6'4"**

**Soos-6'1"**

**Mason-5'11"**

**Mabel-5'4"**

**Wendy-5'8"**


	4. Chapter 4

The three teens were hanging out in the Mystery Shack's gift shop, gathered around the front desk, when the cuckoo clock on the far wall struck six PM. Wendy glanced at it, then back at the twins.

"Hey, Mason, we never got to do that horror movie marathon, did we?"

Mason furrowed his eyebrows. "Nah. I was exhausted after fighting those wax figurines. I'm pretty sure I was asleep within, like, five minutes of heading upstairs."

"Perfect!" the redhead crowed, rising from her stool.

"Why is that perfect?"

"Because, that means I never got to pay you back for taking me on a cryptid hunt."

"You're counting that? It was kinda luck that things played out like that. I mean, yeah, it's Gravity Falls, but what are honestly the odds that a bunch of wax mannequins are gonna turn out to be alive?"

"You're thinkin' into it too much, dude! You took me on a cryptid hunt, so now I'm taking you on one!"

Mason perked up. "Seriously?"

"...Well, it's a _potential_ cryptid hunt."

"They're always potential. We'll have to go to find out. What's the place?"

"Some decades-old convenience store. I'm _pretty _sure it's haunted."

"Like, ghosts? Let's see, Journal says…" Mason began flipping through the pages. "Ah! Ghosts- there's ten categories, ten being the most dangerous, one, the least. Phantoms of Pain, the Eternal Key, Dream Hipster, Danger… Whoa, the Grim Reaper's a category ten ghost? That's crazy, I figured it would've been more, like, some kind of deity. An advanced revenant of some kind? Wonder how the Author found that out... Maybe there's a book written by someone who had a near-death experience, but remained lucid enough to recall the majority of it?" Mason suddenly snapped the Journal shut, startling the girls, who had been drawn into his intense muttering. "I'm an _idiot!"_ he shouted, jumping up.

"Uh, why, dude? You just spouted off more words than I can think of in ten minutes," Wendy said.

"Because, I just _assumed_ that all the Author's knowledge is in this book! Well, obviously, not this alone, since it's the third," he gestured to the number three on the front cover, "so there's two more like this, and I'm just hoping there isn't a fourth and beyond, but aside from that, there's no _way_ all the Author's knowledge of the supernatural and paranormal is gonna be found in these three Journals! That means the Author must have some sort of library out there, filled with books that talk about all _kinds_ of stuff! Necromancy, sorcery, space-time manipulation, multiversal theory, the _secrets of the universe!_ It's all out there- I just need to find it!"

Mabel jumped on her brother's back, breaking him from his mania. "Calm it down, Bro Bro! You'll find this stuff out _another_ time. Today, let's just go hang with Wendy!"

Wendy, who had been entranced by the mad glint in Mason's eyes, shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Uh, yeah! So, possibly-haunted convenience store?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah! Sorry, I dunno what just happened. I had, like, an epiphany. Had to see it through, or it would've drove me crazy. Sorry."

"S'alright. Just, try not to do that in front of my friends, 'kay?"

"Right. No promises."

* * *

"Guys, these are my boss' great-niece and great-nephew. I figured it'd be cool to hang with 'em, since they're pretty new to Gravity Falls, and they're just pretty great people in general."

Mabel hopped into the van, flopping on Wendy's lap. "Hi, y'all! I'm Mabel Pines! That's my Broseph, Dippin' Dots!" She pointed at Mason, who was standing outside the van, waiting for everyone to reshuffle themselves so he could fit.

"May, at least introduce me properly," he muttered. "My names actually Mason. Mabel just likes to call me Dipper, or some variation of it. Nice to meet you guys." He hopped into the van, taking the seat between Mabel and the door.

That's Thompson. He once ate a run-over waffle for fifty cents," Wendy said, pointing at the teen in the driver's seat. He was pretty big, with spiky brown hair, and a tiny mustache. "Tambry, who never gets off her phone." The light skin girl with droopy brown hair and a single pink extension. "Lee." A hippy-looking dude with blond surfer hair. "Nate." A light skin guys with tattoos and a cap. "And Robbie. You can probably figure him out." A pale dude with black hair covering most of his face, and holding a guitar, which he idly strummed on.

"Yeah, I'm the guy who spray-painted the water tower," he said casually, flipping his hair with a slight head toss.

Mason glanced out the window, up at the water tower. "The big muffin?"

"Uh, _actually_, it's an _explosion_," Robbie said heatedly, glaring at Mason.

"Why though?"

"What? Why, what?"

"Why'd you spray paint it? Like, what made you climb _all_ the way up there for that?"

"I gotta express myself, dude. Wouldn't expect a _normie_ like _you_ to get it."

"Robbie, I don't think you can call this dude a normie. I mean, look at his _face!_ What's up with that scar, Mason?" Nate asked.

Mason blinked, then ran a thumb over the four claw marks that stretched from underneath his right eye to his jawline. "Oh. I always forget about that… Anyways, it's nothing serious. Mabel just brought a rabid cat into the house one time, and guess who got to deal with it?"

Mabel stared at him, confused. "Wait, what? Isn't that from that time Mom-?" She interpreted the meaning of his pointed stare a second too late. "...Oh. Oops." She looked down at her lap, plucking at the sequins on her mint-green skirt. Mason wrapped an arm around the girl, tucking her head against his chest. He knew she didn't mean to do that; sometimes, her mouth just worked faster than her brain. It was one of his favorite things about her.

"Wait, your _mom _did that to you?"

Mason sighed. He did his best to ignore the existence of that scar, but occasionally, it still popped up. "Yeah. It's nothing serious, she was just a little drunk, and, well, you know how those things go." He gave the slightly-older teens a tight smile, silently telling them to drop it. Thankfully, they did. Lee elbowed Nate harshly, but Nate didn't apologize. Mason would rather he didn't.

"_Anyways_," he said, drawing out the word for an obnoxiously long period of time to signal a subject change, "Wendy said this convenience store we're going to is haunted?"

Wendy jumped on it like a lifeline. "Yeah, it's called the Dusk 2 Dawn. Apparently, the two owners both died in there on the same night, at the same time. Everyone thinks they were murdered, and now their ghosts haunt the store, waiting to take revenge on any poor soul that steps foot in there," she finished, making her voice lower and wiggling her fingers in a spooky manner.

Thompson finally started the van, and glanced back at his friends. "Uh, okay. Before we go, my mom said you guys aren't allowed to punch the roof anymore, so…"

Immediately, as if they were part of a hive mind, the teens began pounding their fists against the roof, chanting "Thomp-son! Thomp-son! Thomp-son!" The man himself sighed, and pulled out of the Mystery Shack's parking lot.

Mason nudged Mabel, who shifted a bit to completely bury her face in his shoulder. When she looked up, he began punching the ceiling of the van, chanting, while giving Mable a grin. The girl returned it after a few seconds, and when she joined in, the whole group ratcheted up the noise, glad to see the most colorful of their number back in good spirits. Thompson slammed his forehead against the horn in exasperation, the noise covering the words that slipped from his mouth.

* * *

"So, this the place?" Mason asked, stretching his legs and groaning in relief. He popped as many of his joints as he could, making everyone present, except for Mabel, wince.

"Dude, that's like, _so_ gross," Tambry muttered.

"Dipper's _such_ an old man. Did you know that, after the six-hour bus ride up to Gravity Falls, he could barely walk on his own? He had to get Grunkle Stan to help him off the bus, and Grunkle Stan's five times his age!" The teens all laughed loudly at that.

"Yeah? Well, I'm not the one that bedazzled my teeth and ended up swallowing so much glitter we had to call poison control," Mason shot back, feeling vindicated when everyone laughed just as loudly.

"Hey, I was but a child when I did that!"

"You were twelve."

"Yeah, well, you're fifteen, and acting like an eighty-year old!" Mabel said, sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

"Yeah, well, an eighty-year old would probably have the sense to not let a bunch of teens run around in a place that's falling apart like this. So, if I'm an old man, then I'm gonna use my old-man wisdom and drag you back to the Shack."

Mabel blew a half-hearted raspberry. "Fine," she said dejectedly, "You're only middle-aged with knees problems…"

"I'll take it."

"Dude," Wendy said, elbowing him in the side. "What the heck even are your arguments?"

Mason raised an eyebrow. "It's Mabel. What did you expect?"

"I resemble that remark!" Mabel cried indignantly.

"Uh, don't you mean _resent?_" Lee asked.

"No, I resemble it. I'm just not happy at being _called out _like that," she said, poking Mason in the side.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow- May, cut it out!"

"Make me!"

Mason began chasing Mabel around, when Wendy called out to them. "Hey, are you dudes gonna keep us waiting all night? Not that it's not funny watching you dorks, but we came here for a reason!"

Mason glared at Mabel, and made the hand gesture for _I'm watchin' you_. Then, he sprinted to the fence, and clambered over it in about two seconds flat. He brushed off his shorts, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Woah, talk about speedy-quick," Thompson commented. They wait a few more seconds for Mabel to get over, then went into the Dusk 2 Dawn. At least, they tried to. Robbie yanked at the door futilely, before taking a step back, breathing a bit heavily.

"Stupid thing's _stuck_," he grunted.

Mason got closer to the door, placing a hand against. "It's regular glass. Not reinforced, and not that weird plexiglass stuff. You guys think any alarm systems would still be active?"

"Woah, Mason, you aren't thinking of _breaking_ the doors, are you?" Wendy asked cautiously.

"Well, we're already kinda breaking and entering, so like… What's the harm?"

"Dude, you're a maniac." Lee breathed. "Let's do it!"

Mason blinked. "Uh, cool. Let's go fi- Robbie do _not_ punch that glass!" Mason cried, leaping out to grab the emo kid. Robbie shoved him away, scowling.

"Why not? They do it all the time in movies!"

"Yeah, in movies, which are _not real!_ Punching glass in real life can and _will_ fuck your shit up."

"Like _you_ know anything about that." Wordlessly, Mason held up his arm, illuminated by the nearby neon sign, which was littered with pale white lines that stood out against his slightly tanned skin. Robbie's eyes widened as he stared at it.

"I got most of these from punching a window _one_ time. Never made that mistake again."

"What the heck did you punch a window for?" Thompson asked, stepping a bit closer to examine the scars. Mason flushed.

"Listen, it was an accident! I missed, but it's not _my_ fault the kid's head was right next to a window! Now, let's go find something to hit the glass with, that preferably _isn't_ our bare hands!" With that, Mason went around the right side of the store, where the dumpster was. He peered around a bit, before finding the _perfect_ thing. He picked it up reverently, running his hands across the slightly-dented surface. "I found something!" he called, returning to the group to show them the metal baseball bat. He was pretty sure most metal bats were hollow on the inside, but this one had a weight that could only mean it was solid. Mason fell in love instantly.

"It's gorgeous…" he whispered, running his fingers gently along the metal. The sound of giggling drew his attention. Everyone was watching him and laughing, Robbie the loudest. However, his laughter was more raucous than amused, like he was mocking him. Mason blushed again, but did his best to ignore them. Instead, he walked up to the doors, pulled back the bat, and _swung_.

The shattering of glass made them scream in shock. Mason smirked at their terror, and they gaped like he was a madman. He swung the bat over his shoulder, and walked into the convenience store, stomping on the shards without a care in the world. Cautiously, the others followed, but their awe soon overrode their fear.

It wasn't anything special. Not even that different from modern convenience stores. However, it was the atmosphere that made the place that much more fantastical. The dust and gloom reinforced the idea that the place might be haunted, and considering this was Gravity Falls, where nearly anything was possible, it very well could be.

"Can hardly see anything…" Mason muttered, chewing at his bottom lip in thought. Finally, he decided to try something. He head back outside the mart, where he could see, and pulled out the Journal.

"What, scared or something, Pines?" Robbie taunted when he saw the teen step out. Mason mindlessly shushed him, flipping through the pages faster and faster. Robbie, miffed at being dismissed so casually, went to go find Wendy.

"C'mon, I know it's in here _some-_ aha! Spells page! Let's see… Dona mihi visus. Latin for _grant me sight_, allows one to view that which remains unseen, such as creatures that can turn invisible- ghosts- the true form of others- shapeshifters- and see in the dark. Perfect! Alright, no materials required, just form a circle with my thumb and index fingers, hold my hands upside down and look through the circles- oh, like those raccoon eye things we used to do as kids- then say the words. After that, the spell should last around an hour, and you can use your hands for other things. Minimal drain on mana, deactivate the spell either by waiting the hour or forming a circle with your thumbs and _pinkies,_ and perform the same procedure as the activation. Alright, I can do this. Alright, okay. Deep breaths, Mace, you got this. It's one of the most basic spells. Dona mihi visus. Dona mihi visus."

Mason finally tucked away the Journal, and performed the gesture described in the pages. He breathed deeply, and calmed his beating heart. Then, he spoke. "_Dona Mihi Visus."_ The words echoed with power, and Mason knew, instinctively, that he'd done something. Slowly, the darkness of the light shifted until it looked like daytime, and laughter bubbled up Mason's throat.

"Holy _shit_, it worked!" he crowed, barely suppressing the urge to jump up and run around like Mabel would.

"What worked?"

Mason whipped around and holy cow Wendy was right there where the heck did she come from!? He yelped, then clapped his hands around his mouth, then removed them just as quickly. He grabbed Wendy's hands, jumping up and down; he couldn't help himself, he was just too excited.

"Wendy!"

The redhead laughed, the brunet's happiness infectious. "What's up, Mason?"

"Wendy, I did it! I did my first spell! It _worked!_" he cried.

"Whoa, for real, dude!? That's amazing! What's it do?" she asked, joining him in his bouncing.

"I can see... _In the dark!"_ he hissed, hunching over and whispering conspiratorially.

"No way! How many fingers am I holding up behind my back?"

He shoved her playfully. "That's not how it works! Also, zero."

Wendy revealed her closed fist, and stared at Mason in shock. "Wait, if it doesn't work like that, then how'd you know?"

"'Cause you're the type of jerk to do that," he said fondly, scampering away when she tried to slug him in the shoulder.

"Get back here, Pines!" Wendy called, not bothering to chase him as he disappeared into the darkness of the convenience store.

"Never!" he called back. Moments later, he was running back out the mart, full-tilt, his twin thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a string of profanity slipping through his teeth. "Run run run run run-"

Wendy moved to stand in his way, and was ready to demand an explanation, when she suddenly found herself over Mason's shoulder, and was being carted away from the mart. Mere moments after they were outside the building, the previously-shattered glass doors suddenly repaired themselves, as if time had been rewound.

"Mason, what the heck, dude!?" she screamed, pounding on his back. Mason finally seemed to pull himself together, because he set Wendy on her feet. Mabel was passed out, foaming at the mouth, with a packet of Smile Dip clutched tightly in her hand. Mason was well aware of Mabel's tendency to overdose on sugar. He'd intercepted more than a few slaps because of it, but Mabel was always too far gone to notice, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Wendy, I swear to God, I'm not joking with you, but I saw a ghost! It was sticking its head out the freezer!"

"Dude, what!? And you left my friends in there!?"

Mason's jaw dropped. "Oh crap. I forgot about them. I panicked when I saw one of the ghosts about to grab Mabel, so I just picked her up and bolted!"

"Wait, how many are in there!?"

"Two. I think it's the owners who died like twenty years ago."

"Mason, we have to go back in there!"

"But, Mabel-!"

"Just leave her out here, bro! Aren't ghosts bound to their haunt, or whatever?"

Mason grimaced, but he relented. Gently laying his sister down on the asphalt, he turned back to the Dusk 2 Dawn. "Alright. Let's get back in there. Mystery Trio but temporarily Twins because we've got a man down?" he asked, holding a fist out to Wendy. She bumped her fist against his, smiling at his antics.

Mason grabbed the bat he'd left on the ground outside the mart, and slammed it against the magically-repaired door. It cracked the glass, but it didn't shatter completely like before. "Ghosts must be reinforcing it," he muttered, swinging again, and again, and again. On the fifth smash, the door finally broke. Wendy and Mason rushed in, quickly surveying the area. The lights were suddenly on, so they quickly found Tambry's phone on the floor. Wendy picked it up.

"Status update: ahhhh?" she read. Suddenly, the text changed. "Wendy, look at the security monitor?" The teens glanced up, and there was Tambry, face pressed up against the screen, smashing her fist against it for all she was worth.

"Mason, break the monitor!"

"I can't! There's no telling _what_ that'll do! Either it frees Tambry, or it traps her in there forever! We have to defeat the ghosts!"

Mason heard crying, and he snapped his head to the Dance Dance Revolution machine in the corner. On the screen Thompson, curled up in the fetal position, arrows continuously falling from the sky and stabbing into him. More screaming drew his attention to a cereal box on the register. On the cover the box was Lee, getting gouged and gored by a toucan with a spoon. Mason looked away as quickly as he could, fighting back the urge to throw up everything he ever ate.

Suddenly, Nate floated up from behind the counter. A blue aura surrounded him, his eyes rolled back into his head, but still wide open.

"Welcome," Nate said, with a voice much deeper than his own. "Welcome to your _graves,_ young trespassers!" Nate began laughing, arms around his stomach and kicking his feet like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard.

"Wait!" Mason cried. "Tambry, Thompson, Lee, Nate- where's Robbie!?" Wendy began panicking as well.

"Robbie!" she screamed, running around the store. She screamed again, but this time in fright. She found Robbie, and, well…

"I'm a hot dog!"

"I'll never be able to eat hot dogs again," Mason mumbled. He took a deep breath, then pointed the metal bat at Nate. "Let our friends go!"

"Or _what_, you foolish human? You'll beat this body to death in an attempt to hit me? Newsflash, boy; _you can't hit gho-_ ow!" Mason jumped forward, slamming the baseball bat into the head of the ghost holding Nate up by the arms.

"You sure about that?" Mason growled, standing over the prone body of Nate. Red lightning crackled over his body, his eyes scarlet, teeth sharp, ears pointed.

"W-what are you!?" the old man ghost asked, quivering in fear. Mason just hefted the bat over his shoulder, jumping at the ghost again. It attempted to fly away, but Mason jabbed it in the stomach, sending it into a wall. He bolted over, dropping the bat on the way, and grabbed the ghost by the leg, dragging it down to his level, then began wailing on its face. His punches were fast as bullets, and hit hard as cannonballs. Each blow sent more ectoplasm splashing everywhere, until finally, the old man ghost dropped to the ground, one head short.

A female ghost suddenly flew out of a wall. "Honey!" she cried, shrieking when Mason grabbed her by her apron.

"Let my friends go, or _you're. Next."_

The ghost snapped her fingers, not even arguing. Suddenly, Tambry, Thompson, Lee, and Robbie were laying on the cracked tile floor, unconscious. Nate had yet to wake up, leaving Wendy and Mason the only ones awake at the moment.

"_Good," _Mason growled, then looped his arm around the ghost's neck, putting her in a headlock. She slapped at his arm, hitting as hard as she could, but Mason put more and more pressure, until a sickening _CRACK _was heard, and she went limp. He dropped the lady to the floor, revealing a neck that was bent at an unnatural angle. It seemed that even ghosts could die of broken necks.

The red aura surrounding him faded, and Mason dropped to his knees, panting heavily. He coughed harshly, crimson droplets splattering on the tiles each time.

"_Mason!"_ Wendy screamed, running towards him. She dropped to his level, grabbing him by the shoulders to keep him upright. "Mason, what the heck _was_ that!?"

The teen shrugged. "...Dunno," he rasped. "Chest… Hurts…" he wheezed, head dropping to rest against Wendy's shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean, I'd imagine it does- you're coughing up _blood,_ dude! We gotta get you to a hospital!"

Mason shook his head, forehead ruffling her shirt. "Sleep it off," he muttered. He placed his hands on Wendy's shoulders, and pushed himself upright with tremendous effort. Wendy rose with him, a steadying hand on his back. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Gotta help the others."

"Dude, you're not gonna be able to help _anyone_ if you collapse!"

"I'm _fine," _he hissed. "Just tired. We both need to move Thompson."

"_Or_, we could just wait until they wake up and can move on their own?"

"...Or that."

* * *

Mason woke with a start, shooting into an upright position, breathing hard. He forced his heavy eyelids open, and took note of his surroundings. It seemed like he was in the back of Thompson's van, on the floor in between the benches. The other teens were looking at him, seemingly worried.

"What…"

"You passed out," Wendy answered. "Everyone else woke up, but we decided to let you sleep. You _did_ kinda save our butts, what with the whole _killing the ghosts_ thing. How'd you do that, by the way?"

Mason looked at his hands, and noticed Mabel was lying on the floor next to him, fast asleep. He unconsciously began to run his fingers through her hair, undoing any knots he rain across.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't _do_ anything… I just beat up the ghosts."

"Sure you didn't," Wendy said, rolling her eyes. She sounded annoyed. Mason latched a hand onto her ankle, making sure he had her attention.

"Wendy... I'm serious. I don't know how I did that stuff. I wasn't thinking about it at all… I just _moved_."

The redhead's eyes softened. "Right. Sorry, Mason. I guess I'm still a little on-edge from that whole mess." He nodded, then scooted over to rest against the back doors of the van, hoping they didn't open right now. He gently moved Mabel with him to rest her head in his lap, still messing with her hair.

"What happens now?" Mason asked, staring each of the older teens in the eye. They were unnerved by his intensity, and averted their gazes quickly.

"We go back to normal. Pretend like it never happened. We're all still here, in one piece. There's not much else to do," Wendy answered casually. Mason shook his head.

"You weren't the one who got trapped by the ghosts. I'm asking _them._" He gestured to Wendy's friends, who seemed unsure. "This isn't something they can just forget."

"...We'll deal, dude," Nate answered hesitantly. "Like, we don't see weird stuff like that normally, but we _do_ live in Gravity Falls. It's not exactly what you'd call _normal."_

"Yeah, like Lee's chest hair!" Thompson piped up from the driver's seat. "Stuff's so long, the dude _braids_ it! Like, what the what?"

Lee crossed his arms over his chest. "Dude, don't _tell_ 'em that!" he whined. "Well, if we're mentioning weird things, then it's gotta be that birthmark Nate's covering with his tats! He showed me a picture of when he was a kid at the pool, and there's just, like, a giant-!" Nate lunged at Lee, covering his mouth with both hands. Soon, the two were tumbling around on the floor of the van, wrestling, Wendy and Robbie egging them on.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"When it comes to birthmarks, I think _I've_ got it covered," Mason said. He lifted his bangs, revealing the constellation on his forehead, and everyone stared at him for a solid minute.

"Dude, now I know why Mabel calls you Dipper," Wendy muttered. The others nodded in agreement.

"By the way, none of you have permission to call me that. Try it, and I'll spin your jaw." Robbie opened his mouth to say it, just to be contrary, but the death glare Mason shot him made him think twice. He clicked his jaw shut. The teens laughed, and Mason relaxed, just a bit.

_Is this what having friends is like?_

Nate and Lee went back to wrestling, just to see who was stronger. Robbie and Wendy were punching the roof of the van, chanting Thompson's name. Thompson was repeatedly introducing his face to the steering wheel, the honking drowning out his repeated swear words. Tambry somehow managed to look unbothered, staring at her phone the whole time. However, she occasionally glanced around, taking in the scene, and her lips curled up in a tiny smile. Mabel was tossing and turning a bit due to the noise, but when Mason set a gentle hand on her forehead, she lay still.

_...It's nice._


	5. Chapter 5

Mason was sitting on the recliner, staring at the TV, bored out of his mind. He hadn't fully recovered from last night's excursion to the Dusk 2 Dawn, so he decided to take it easy today. He didn't skimp on his morning work-out, but he _would_ hold off on cryptid hunting for a bit.

Suddenly, Mabel ran over and plopped herself into Mason's lap without a word. When he pinched her side, she rammed an elbow back into his stomach, causing the cinders of pain in his chest to flare up. He hissed, then decided Mabel could stay where she was, if it meant less bodily harm for him.

On screen, a commercial began playing, for some person named Gideon, who had a Tent of Telepathy. Mabel was hooked. She spun sideways, flinging her legs over the armrests, and staring up at him.

"Dipper we have to go!" she squealed.

"...Do we? Do we _really?_"

"Yes! I have to see if this guy's the real deal! He could be the guy of my dreams, and he would _know_ it, because he's _psychic!"_

"Uh-uh, neither of you little brats are stepping _foot_ in that stupid Tent of Telepathy! That Gideon kid's nothin' but trouble!"

"But Grunkle Stan-!"

"No! I forbid it! Nobody living under _my_ roof is gonna ever be under _Gideon's_ roof!"

"...Do tents even have roofs?" Mason asked, immediately regretting it when Mabel bounced up and zoomed out the Shack. He threw his head back, groaning. "Me and my big mouth." He exchanged glances with Stan, and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna make sure she doesn't do something completely stupid."

* * *

"It's like a rip-off Mystery Shack," Mason muttered, glancing around the Tent of Telepathy. "Look, they even have their own Soos," he told Mabel, nodding at the handyman. His name tag said Deuce.

"Shhh!" Mabel chucked a piece of popcorn at him. "It's starting, it's starting!" Indeed, the lights began to dim, leaving only two spotlights to roam around the tent, eventually centering on the stage. The curtains opened, and…

Mason had to duck his head to try and keep his snorting quiet. "_He looks like a pig!" _the teen whispered to his twin. "Look at his nose! His nostrils are nearly vertical! And he's so _fat!"_

"Hel-_lo_ America!" the kid said- because that's what he was, a kid. Even up on the stage, he looked shorter than Mabel, who stopped growing when they were, like, twelve. Those were dark days, back when Mabel was taller than him.

"My name is Lil' Gideon!" Gideon clapped his hands, and doves flew out of his massive pompadour. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is such a _gift_ to have you all here tonight! _Such a gift!_ I have a vision; I predict, you'll soon all say, _awwww!"_ The kid turned around so only his cape was visible, then flashed his face back to the crowd, with a disgusting expression. Somehow, though, the crowd did say _awww._ Mason didn't, obviously, but Mabel was entranced.

"He's so _widdle_," she whispered. Mason rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone.

* * *

**Mason:** yo yo

**Wendy:** wut upppp

**Mason:** me and mabel are here at the gideon kid's show

**Wendy:** really?

**Wendy:** stan let you guys go?

**Wendy:** hes been complaining bout that kid all week

**Mason:** mabel found a loophole, and here we are

**Mason:** honestly, not impressed

**Mason:** the kid looks like a pig and

**Mason:** oh

**Mason:** oh god

**Wendy:** ?

**Mason:** wanna actually have a horror movie marathon now?

**Mason:** hes singing and dancing, and its almost worse than watching that reporter make out with a cardboard lady

**Wendy:** lmaoooo yeah im down

**Mason:** at least theres a bunch of old ladies fighting over the cape he threw into the crowd

**Mason:** now i know why gladiator fights were so successful back in rome

**Mason:** might fuck around and reinstate the coliseum

**Wendy:** well, lemme know if you need any help with that

**Wendy:** 6 for the movies?

**Mason:** yeah 6 works

**Wendy:** coolio

**Wendy:** gotta get back to work so ttyl

**Mason:** didnt you decapitate coolio?

**Mason:** and now youre just gonna use his name like that?

**Mason:** for shame

**Wendy:** lol youre such a dork

* * *

Suddenly, Mason was standing, and he didn't know why. He didn't activate a single muscle in his leg, not of his own free will. "Maybe this kid isn't such a scam after all," Mason muttered darkly. He should've expected it, honestly; this was Gravity Falls.

When the twins left the Tent of Telepathy, Mason told Mabel about his suspicions. The girl squished her cheeks together in shock.

"Really!? I thought I was just following the crowd! He's actually psychic!?"

"Maybe."

Their conversation was interrupted by the topic of the conversation. Gideon Gleeful called out to the Pines twins. "Yoohoo! Excuse me, Miss Mabel?" The kid came jogging up to them, and had to take a second to catch his breath. Mabel gasped.

"It's widdle ol' you!" she cried joyfully.

Gideon seemed pained by that. "Ah ha, yeah, widdle ol' me… Anyway, I know we haven't formally met, but when I saw you in that crowd, I said to myself, now _there's_ a kindred spirit. You know, someone who appreciates the more sparkly things in life!"

Mabel glanced down at her pink sweater, her name stitched into it with rainbow letters. "Uh, sorry, I'm not wearing a sweater with glitter today. But that's totally me!"

"I knew it. I could tell- psychic, you know. So, what do ya say we step away for a moment? Somewhere more private, like, say… My dressing room?"

"Ooh, makeovers!" Mabel cried, poking him hard in his huge stomach. "Dipper, Dipper, can I go? Please?"

Mason pulled out his phone, glancing at the time; five o'clock. The show had run longer than he thought. "Sure, I guess. Be back at the Shack by eight, or I'm hunting you down."

Mabel wrapped her arms around his midsection, squeezing the life out of him. "Thank you thank you thank you!" In a whirlwind of movement, she was gone, and Mason finally unclenched his fists. If that Gideon kid did _anything_ to her…

He shook his head, taking off his cap to let his hair breathe. He had a movie to catch.

* * *

"'Sup, dude," Wendy greeted, pounding fists with Mason. "What's with the frowny face?"

"Mabel's hanging out with Gideon."

Wendy sucked in air through her teeth. "Yikes. What're they doin'?"

"Mabel's going to get a makeover, and _Gideon_… I don't know, but I didn't like that look in his eye. If he does _anything_ to Mabel, I'm gonna dislocate his _everything_."

"Dude, brutal. Anyways, you excited for these movies?"

"Yeah. Anything to get my mind off that little pig."

"Cool. I got Kansas Chainsaw Massacre, the Pondering, AnnieBelle…"

* * *

Mason was awoken by the sound of the front door opening. He blearily opened his eyes, and got a faceful of a still-sleeping Wendy. He wasn't yet awake enough to be really surprised, so he got up off the couch, and found his phone somewhere on the ground. Turning it on, he found the time to be half-past nine. He narrowed his eyes, and went upstairs. He found Mabel in the attic, her hair in some ridiculous style, makeup caking her face, and her nails sharp as knives.

"May, did you only get back _now?_"

Mabel froze, turning around slowly. "Uh, maybe?"

He crossed his arms. "What happened to eight?"

"Well, see, Gideon _really _wanted to show me the view of the sunset from the top of his family's factory, and since it's summer, the sun doesn't set until nine, and the factory's kinda far from the Shack, so-"

"You're not hanging out with him again."

"What!? Dipper-!"

"_No_. He's a rich kid, and rich kids always grow up learning how to be manipulative little bastards. I don't know what he wants, but he's using you for something, like getting one over Stan."

"Dipper, you don't _know_ that-"

"I saw the look in his greasy eyes, May. He doesn't actually care about you- he just sees you as another opportunity. You're not hanging out with him again."

"You can't tell me who I can and can't be friends with! What are you, _my father!?_" Mabel screamed, and instantly regretted ever opening her mouth. Mason's frame was tight with tension, wound up like a spring, and for a split- second, Mabel was scared he might actually hit her. Then, the logical portion of her brain kicked in, and she realized he never would. That didn't mean he wasn't upset with her.

Spinning on his heel, he went back downstairs without another word, ignoring Mabel's cries for him to come back. He bumped into Wendy on the stairs.

"Hey, I heard yelling-"

Mason shouldered past, ignoring her indignant grunt. He had to get out, go somewhere far, before he did something he regretted. Slamming open the back door of the Mystery Shack, he drifted away into the dark forest.

* * *

"Um, okay?" Wendy muttered to herself, watching Mason leave the Shack. She continued her trek upstairs, and found Mabel curled up in a ball on her bed, crying quietly. Wendy knocked on the open door, peeking into the room "Mabel?"

"...Go 'way."

"Can't do that, girl-dude." She walked into the room, and sat at the edge of the bed, gently stroking Mabel's brown mop. "What happened?"

"...I made Dipper mad," she sniffled, sitting up to lean against Wendy. The redhead wrapped an arm around her.

"It'll be fine. So what if he's a jerk? You don't-" Wendy was cut off by Mabel weakly punching her in the thigh.

"Don't talk about him like that. It's my fault," she whispered. Wendy was quiet for a moment.

"Then, what do you think you did?"

Mabel took a few seconds to respond. She finally lifted her head, allowing Wendy to see the tears running down her face and snot leaking from her nose. Still, there was a glint of _something_ in her eyes, that sent a shiver down Wendy's spine.

"You promise not to say anything to anyone?"

Wendy thought about making a scout's honor joke, but scrapped the idea. "Of course. My lips are sealed."

Mabel nodded, then leaned against Wendy's shoulder again, her facial fluids seeping into the flannel. "I compared him to dad, and Dipper _hates_ our dad."

"What? Why?" Wendy couldn't imagine ever hating her dad, even with all his… _Manliness._

"Because… Dad's never there. Not for our birthdays, or our graduations, or the holidays, or… Or when Mom starts hitting us."

Wendy stiffened. "Wait, so that thing with Mason's scar…?"

Mabel nodded somberly. "It happens a lot."

Her head was spinning. She brought a hand up to try and muffle the sudden ringing in her ears, to no avail. "_Dude…_" she breathed, because really, what else was there to say? "How could she do that to _her own kids?"_

Mabel shrugged. "Mom doesn't really like us," the girl said, sounding dangerously detached. "She doesn't like how Dipper gets better grades than her when she was a kid, and she doesn't like how artistic I am. She's jealous that we got all the talent, I guess."

"That's not an excuse-!"

"I never said it was. It's just how it is."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Wendy asked, staring at Mabel like she'd grown a third eye. The girl shrugged again.

"You get used to it when it's the only thing you really remember. Plus, Dipper _always_ protects me. My mom's only managed to hit me, like, ten times in fifteen years, and one time she had to knock Dipper out with a frying pan to get that far." Suddenly, she smiled. "That _THONK_ it made was pretty impressive…"

Wendy started giggling, and then Mabel started giggling, and soon, the two were a mess of limbs on the bed, laughing their hearts out. They lay there for a moment, tangled together, catching their breath.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah, Mabel?"

"Thanks for checking on me. I feel a lot better."

"No prob, girl-dude. You ever need to talk, feel free to hit me up."

"I will. By the way, don't worry about Dip-Dop."

"Uh, what? How the heck did you know?"

"'Cause _I see all!"_ Mabel cried, stretching her eyelids wide open. "He'll be fine. Whenever we argue, he disappears for a few days, but he comes back."

"Wait, a few _days?"_

"Yeah. He's learned how to survive in the woods, so he'll be fine."

"Does this happen often?"

"No, not really. Remember how I said Mom's only managed to hit me a few times?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Well, other than the time she bopped Dipper upside the head with a pan, she only manages to get me when Dipper vanishes like that. So, this is the ninth or tenth argument we've ever had."

"Man, I wish I was that close to my siblings. I had, like, three separate arguments with my brother Gus _today_, not counting my two other younger brothers."

"Yeesh. Sounds like things are crazy in your house."

"Trust me, when your dad's Manly Dan, it gets hectic."

"I believe it. Did I ever tell you about that time Dipper and I were searching for Wax Grunkle Stan's murderer?"

"Oh, Mason was texting me while you were. He told me about the whole arm wrestling machine thing, and that nasty junk with Toby Determined. You should've seen what he said about the bar- he was _terrified_ of my dad."

Mabel wiggled her eyebrows, looking at Wendy pointedly. The redhead shoved her shoulder playfully.

"What? You're freakin' me out, dude."

"You got his number!?" she suddenly screeched, hopping up and down on the bed.

"Wh- no! It's not like that!" Wendy shouted, waving her hands wildly. She _really_ hoped her face wasn't as red as her hair right now. Judging by the brace-filled cheshire grin, it was.

"_YOU LIKE HIM!"_

"N-No I don't!"

"My love guru senses are totally tingling! It's a match made in heaven!"

"Mabel, calm down!"

"You two were fated to be together; soulmates!"

Wendy slapped a hand to her forehead, dragging it down her face.

"Mabel, is there any way I can get you to be quiet?"

"You can… Admit that you like my brother?"

"I _don't _like-"

"LA LA LA IS THAT DENIAL I HEAR!?"

"Oh lord. Alright, so maybe, perhaps, possibly, I _might_ have a tiny, miniscule, eensie-weensie... _CrushonMason_."

Mabel's squeal was deafening.

* * *

"Human child! Why are you beating on trees in the middle of the night!?"

Mason stopped using a log as a punching bag, and looked up- and up, man this thing was tall- at the creature that was talking to him. There was enough moonlight penetrating the forest canopy that he could see it was some sort of minotaur. A beefy (pun completely intended) upper human body, a furry lower body with hooves, incredibly amounts of facial hair, and horns. This minotaur had a tattoo on its left shoulder; a male gender sign.

"What're you, a minotaur?" Mason asked, just in case he was wrong.

"No! I'm a _Man_otaur! Half man, half… uh… Taur!"

"Well, what the heck brought you out here?"

The Manotaur began snuffling. "The scent… Of emotional issues. Is it you!?" he roared, leaning in to take a whiff of Mason. "Yeah, it's you."

"That's more than a little creepy."

"What brings you to the forest to punch trees, human child?" the Manotaur asked, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed. Mason followed suit, ignoring the stinging in his knuckles as he dragged them over the dirt.

"I… My twin sister compared me to our dad, and she _knows_ how much I hate that. I just… Had to get away. Before I did something stupid."

"Pretty manly, to know when you gotta leave. But, that's not all I smell! I also smell..." He snuffled some more. "Feelings of inadequacy!"

Mason sighed. "I dunno… Recently, I've been running into a lot of crazy stuff here in Gravity Falls. Animated wax people, the hick version of the Loch Ness monster, gnomes trying to marry my sister… It's a lot. And everytime it comes down to it, I gotta step up and fight our way out of there. Obviously, I manage it, but… It's not _me_ that's doing the fighting. It feels like, whenever the going gets rough, something takes over. I hate relying on it, because soon I'll be expecting it to happen when I'm in a tough fight, and it'll fail me, and… I don't want Mabel to get hurt because of that. I _have _to be stronger, so I can handle my own business."

When Mason finally looked up, he saw the Manotaur wiping a tear from his eye, sniffling. "That's one of the manliest things I've ever heard…" he said softly, then leapt to his feet. "Human child, you've inspired me! I will take you with me to meet my people, and we shall teach you the _ways of manliness!_ Now, climb on my back hair!"

* * *

"Oh HOLY COW!" Mason screamed as they crashed into a solid mountainside. Apparently, it wasn't as solid as it looked, because the Manotaur broke through it, into a cave filled by other Manotaurs. Mason jumped off, looking around in awe. A Manotaur sitting on a massive leather couch, lifting bone weights, another doing pushups on the ground, one playing darts, and the final two playing foosball on a giant foosball table.

"Is this some sorta Man Cave?"

"Indeed, human child. The gnomes live in the trees, the merpeople in the water- 'cause they're _losers!_ But, we Manotaurs crash, in the _MAN CAVE!" _he bellowed, picking up a bone and smashing it against a gong. "BEASTS! I have brought you, _a hairless child!"_ The Manotaur began pointing at different Manotaurs around the cave. "This is Pubetor, Testosteraur, Pituitaur, and _I'm_ Chutzpar. And you are!?"

"Mason."

The crowd of Manotaurs began booing him. Something about his name being weak. Maybe because it didn't end with -aur?

"Uh… Mason, the… Stonebreaker?" Close enough. At least, the Manotaurs seemed to think so, because they were nodding in approval.

"Stonebreaker has moved me with his story, and his drive to become stronger! I wish to teach him to be, A MAN!" Chutzpar roared. The Manotaurs began fistpumping in agreement. They were about to go outside, when they realized it was dark.

"Uh, temporary change of plans. Stonebreaker, you can crash on the couch, we'll continue this in the morning."

* * *

Once the sun had risen, the Manotaurs and Mason gathered outside, in a forest clearing.

"Being a man is about conquering your fear!" Chutzpar explained.

"For your first man-test, you must plunge your fist into the _Pain Hole!"_ Testosteraur said, pointing at the hole in the ground. He walked over to demonstrate. Kneeling down, he stuffed his fist into the darkness, and was screaming within moments, slapping himself in the face. When he finally managed to free himself, he ran back to the Man Cave, squealing.

"Uh… Okay?" Mason looked at Chutzpar. "Wait, is this even gonna work? My arms are kinda short compared to yours." Chutzpar nodded, and Mason walked forward. Getting down on one knee, he took a deep breath, and plunged his fist into the ground.

It was _pain_. Pure and overwhelming. Mason couldn't even begin to describe it, or figure out what was causing it, because his nerves only registered sheer agony. He was gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might break, and sweat began dripping from his forehead like a waterfall of grossness. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Chutzpar hauled him to his feet. He nearly fell back down, only staying upright through an ironclad will.

"What… The heck.. _Was _that!?" he asked, looking at his arm. He was surprised he even still had one, astounded that there wasn't a scratch on it- other than his scabbed over knuckles.

Chutzpar just shrugged. "Nobody knows. We tried throwing a torch inside, but the Pain Hole just spit it back out. Started a forest fire… Never again," Chutzpar said, eyes gaining a haunted look. He shook his head to clear it. "Now, shirt off!" he commanded, pulling a bottle of glue from… Somewhere.

Mason complied, handing his shirt to one of the other Manotaurs. Chutzpar sprayed a glob of glue on his chest, ripped off a chunk of his beard, and slapped it on him. It adhered in an instant.

"Uh, is this really necessary?"

"Yeah. Manotaur fur has magical muscle-building properties. That's how we're so _BUFF!"_ The Manotaurs began flexing and growling. "And now, for the training montage!"

* * *

It took hours, but Mason finally made a loop around the base of the mountain, a cart full of four Manotaurs strapped to his back. Maybe he was crazy, but it felt like every step became easier than the next, until he was moving at just below walking speed.

Mason looked at the fur glued to his chest. "Huh. Maybe this stuff _does _work."

* * *

Mason hopped across the gators insanely quick, according to the Manotaurs. His footwork training from boxing came in handy, though Mason was now wondering if he should supplement it with acrobatics, to improve his balance. Maybe parkour? Piedmont had plenty of buildings that were close enough for that kind of thing.

* * *

Getting his eyelids stretched by the Manotaurs to stare at a picture of an eagle saying _glory_ and a picture of a lion saying _honor_ was kinda weird, but Mason went with it. Not like he really had a choice, since the Manotaurs were holding him down. Man, his eyes burned.

* * *

Drinking from a fire hydrant was difficult. He ended up having to stand right in the stream, so that his neck wouldn't get snapped. The chilled water was actually pretty refreshing, when it wasn't threatening to break his bones in half.

* * *

_Don't look down don't look down don't look down-!_

Mason ran as fast as he could, and _leaped_. For a tense moment, his legs were just kicking in the air, the only thing beneath him the river a thousand feet down. He soared through the air, and landed far from the edge, heart rattling in his ribcage. He heaved a sigh of relief, glancing back at the gorge, and walked away.

* * *

Mason sunk into the scalding water of the hot tub, groaning in relief. "It's like this water has healing properties- it feels so _nice_," he drawled, melting against the edge of the basin.

"Don't relax _too_ much, Stonebreaker. One final task remains… The _deadliest of all_."

Mason was struggling to keep his eyelids open, the soothing heat making him drowsy. "S'all good," he slurred. "Already did forty-nine. Wuz one more?"

He fell asleep to the cheering of the Manotaurs.

* * *

Testeroraur lit the braziers, while Chutzpar slapped the final temporary tattoo on his arm. Mason was dressed in nothing but a loincloth, and the Manotaur fur had finally been removed from his chest. A few Manotaurs began drumming on the bald heads of their brethren with bones.

"Behold, our leader!" Chutzpar shouted, "_LEADERAUR!"_

An old, decrepit Manotaur walked out of the darkness of one of the tunnels, and was swallowed up in one bite by a hulking beast, that was easily three times the size of the other Manotaurs. His arms were twice as thick as any of the tree trunks in the forest, and his pecs were nearly as big as the Mystery Shack.

"You…" Leaderaur rumbled, deep voice sending tremors through the Man Cave. "You wish to be _man?_" he asked. Mason slammed his fists against his chest, roaring wordlessly. "Then you must go to highest mountain, and conquer our sworn enemy." He dug a clawed hand into his own chest, yanking a bone spear out. He tossed it in front of Mason, still dripping fluids.

"_BRING BACK THE HEAD OF MULTI-BEAR!"_

"The… The what?"

"It's a bear with a bunch of heads," Chutzpar whispered. Mason nodded in understanding.

"Do this task, and your Mans-formation shall be _complete_."

"Uh…"

"It means you'll get to keep the strength you built through your training. And, you'll be free to come back for more."

Mason nodded at Chutzpar. "I ACCEPT YOUR TASK!" he boomed, voice echoing through the chamber, soon drowned out by the cheers of the Manotaur. "Now, if somebody could point me in the right direction, that'd be greatly appreciated."

* * *

It was the work of days, trekking through the forest. He had to climb trees many times to reorient himself, occasionally hunting small woodland creatures to keep up his strength. Rivers were crossed, beasts fought off, naps had. Climbing the highest mountain in the valley was arduous work, requiring all the strength he'd gained to vault up the rocky faces, pull himself over ledges, and navigate the swirling paths. But, finally, he was here, standing in front of the cave on top the tallest mountain.

Mason stabbed his spear into the rock beside him, the point easily sliding into the stone. He held his hands to his face, fingers making a circle. "_Dona Mihi Visus_." The stormy clouds may as well have vanished, with how bright it was now, and Mason was barely able to suppress the glee that surged through him at successfully performing the spell again. He sincerely hoped that feeling would never get old.

The sight spell allowed him to see the bones littering the ground of the cave, and he was careful not to step on them, in case the cracking alerted the beast. Then again, bears had much better senses than humans, so he wouldn't be surprised if it already knew he was here. Casting his magically-enhanced gaze around, he found the creature in the back of the cave. It was massive, an amalgamation of multiple brown bears. Chutzpar had only said it had a bunch of heads, so Mason had pictured something like a hydra, not the mess of body parts that the Multi-Bear actually was.

The heads roared at him in sync, kicking up a gust of wind so strong he started sliding backwards. Mason crouched to fortify his base, and managed to weather the gust.

"Human," the beast crooned, voice surprisingly smooth. "Why do you enter my cave?"  
"I've come to take your head- or, one of your heads. How the heck do you have so many? What've ya got, like, six of 'em?"

The Multi-Bear sighed, seemingly annoyed. "Let me guess; the _Manotaurs_ sent you?"

Mason straightened up. "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?" The creature just gestured at him with a paw, and Mason remembered he was wearing a loincloth and a bunch of fake tattoos. "Oh. Right."

"Did the Manotaurs tell you _why_ you were sent to kill me?"

"Um…"

"Of course they didn't. Observe, human." The Multi-Bear walked over to a radio that was sitting on a rock platform, and Mason just stared. His jaw dropped when the bear pressed a button, and Icelandic pop group BABBA started playing. The Multi-Bear observed his shock. "What, surprised that a violent beast would listen to something so unmanly?"

"No. I'm more surprised that you even have a radio in the first place. And the fact that you exist, but, this _is_ Gravity Falls, so I gotta get used to that."

"You… Don't think it's stupid that I like Disco Girl?"

"I don't really care. Like, listen to what you want, ya know? I, personally, don't like listening to music in general, since I wanna be aware of what's goin' on around me, but my sister listens to all kinds of things. That includes Iceland pop group BABBA. It's Top 40 for a reason, isn't it?"

The Multi-Bear's heads were nodding. "It _is_ Top 40 for a reason- it's so catchy!" The bear began humming, then noticed Mason was still there, and slumped a bit. "What will you do now that you know my darkest secret, human? Will you complete the task given to you by the Manotaurs?"

Mason stabbed his spear into the cave floor, leaning against it to think. He hummed in concentration, before an idea popped into his head.

"Hey, what happens if I only cut off one of your lower heads?"

* * *

There was much fanfare when Mason returned. Manotaurs wrestling, drumming on their chests, punching each other in the face… Actually, that was just regular Manotaur stuff. Mason went to stand in front of Leaderaur, who was sitting idly on his throne. He stabbed the bone spear into the floor, and wordlessly held up the dripping bear head in his hand.

Leaderaur jumped to his feet, shaking the cavern. He snorted flames out of his nostrils, then _moo'd_ with force. In under a minute, the entirety of the Manotaur tribe was in the cave, staring at Mason in awe.

"STONEBREAKER!" Leaderaur bellowed, "YOU HAVE COMPLETED YOUR TASK! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR, THE _MANS-FORMATION!"_

The Manotaurs surrounding the raised platform he stood on began chanting, "Man! Man! Man! Man!"

Leaderaur spread his hands generously, and roared, "IT IS DONE!" The Manotaurs went back to whatever they were doing, leaving Mason with whiplash from the anticlimactic ritual.

"Uh, _what?"_ he asked Chutzpar.

"It's not really a complicated ritual. Leaderaur just accepted you into the tribe, so you will forever possess the strength you have now."

"Really? It… This is gonna sound ungrateful, but I don't really feel that different."

Chutzpar chuckled. "The human body adapts quickly- you'd be surprised, the things you can get used to. Come with me." Mason followed the taur, who took him into the forest. "Punch that tree, as hard as you can. Put some _umph_ into it!"

Mason pulled his arms up into a boxing stance, dancing back and forth on his feet, noticing that he felt lighter than before. He threw a few air jabs, his arms snapping out much quicker than he was used to. Smiling a bit in anticipation, he stepped forward, slammed his fist into the tree-

And stumbled when he suddenly didn't feel resistance anymore. Unable to catch himself, he fell to his knees. Only Chutzpar pulling him back kept him from being squashed by the tree he'd shattered.

"Holy _shit…_" he breathed, slowly rising to his feet and staring at the splintered log on the ground in front of him. "Did _I_ just do that!?"

"You did, Stonebreaker. It was totally manly, by the way."

"_Dude."_

"Dude, indeed. Let's go back to the Man Cave. Pituitar washed your clothes."

* * *

Dipper was once more wearing his shorts, t-shirt, and vest jacket. They smelled like fresh linen, courtesy of Pituitar, ironically (he was the Manotaur that had the worst case of body odor). He swept his messy hair back, fixing his cap over the longest of the locks to keep them out of the way. He stood on the path back to the Mystery Shack, Chutzpar next to him.

"You're always welcome back here, Stonebreaker. Don't hesitate to drop by for some good ol' male bonding."

"I'm probably gonna start coming here for my morning work-out. I like doing calisthenics, but somethin' about pumpin' iron- or bone, I guess, since that's what you guys use- just _really_ gets the blood flowing."

"You said it, Stonebreaker! See ya 'round, then."

"Later, Chutzpar." With a final wave, Mason walked into the dawn-lit forest, heading back to his home for the summer.

* * *

It only took a few minutes to get back to the Shack, surprisingly. Not even that difficult of a hike- then again, after scaling a mountain in nothing but a loincloth, he'd probably never have difficulty with a beaten path again. He arrived with the rising sun, and slipped inside the front door almost silently. He smirked at his stealth skills.

_No chance I was heard. Besides, no one's even awake at this ti- _"Omph!" Mason grunted, as he was slammed into by a brown torpedo. "What the- Mabel!?"

"I'm so _sorryyyyy _Bro-Bro! I'll never make you mad again!"

Mason rolled his eyes, patting his sobbing sister on the head. "That's what you said the last five times. Don't worry, I'm fine now."

"Promise?"

Mason held up three fingers on his right hand. "Scout's honor."

The girl began wailing even louder, burying her face into his harder-than-she-remembered stomach. He set his bone spear down next to the door, grateful that Leaderaur had let him keep it. With some difficulty, the teen managed to waddle over to the couch, falling onto it. Mabel readjusted herself so she was curled up in a ball on him, and in five minutes, had cried herself to sleep. Mason ran his hand through her messy hair, just listening to her gentle breathing for a little while.

"Night, May," he whispered, drifting off to join her in the land of dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

"Uh, Mr. Pines, whose birthday is it again?" Soos asked, tying a string of flags to the wall.

"Nobody's," Stan replied gruffly. "Thought this party might be a good way to get kids to spend money at the Shack."

"_Nice!"_ Soos said, approving of the latest scam.

"The young people of this town want fun? I'll _smother_ 'em in fun!"

"Comments like that are probably _why _kids don't come to the Shack. No offense, Stan, but you're kind of a creep," Mason said from the couch he was lounging on. Mabel was still being clingy, so she sat in his lap, head buried in the crook of his neck. Wendy sat next to the twins, chilling.

"How could I _not _be offended? Listen, hows about you kids make yourselves useful and go make copies of this flyer?" He handed Mason a clipboard with a pink piece of paper on it.

"Free, question mark? Why is there a question mark after free?"

"It's the Mystery Shack! Of course I'm gonna make the price a mystery!"

"You're gonna overcharge everyone that walks in the door, regardless of their age," Mason translated, amused.

"You know it! Now get going! I need those flyers up and around town soon. I fixed up the old copy machine in my office, so don't bother going down to the copy shop."

* * *

Mabel gasped. "Butterflies!"

"May, those are moths. Jeez, didn't Stan say he fixed this thing good as new?" Mason grumbled, waving away the cloud of dust that exploded in his face when he pulled back the tarp.

"Dude, it's Stan. His definition of good as new means it looks just like him," Wendy joked, getting a laugh from the teens.

"Wonder if this thing even _works_…" Mason muttered, leaning against the glass surface to poke one of the buttons. The glass lit up with green light, and a laser scanned across the length of the surface passing over Mason's arm. "Alright, guess that answers that."

Mabel grabbed the photocopy of his arm. "Success!" she cried, then dropped the paper with a shriek when it began warping. The teens backed away a bit, watching as the arm on the page miraculously transformed into a three-dimensional object. It began slowly inching towards them. Mason knelt down next to it, picking it up.

"This is really creepy, but also really cool. It looks like a perfect replica. Let's see… The scars from when I accidentally punched a window, that time a kid tried to shank me with a screwdriver, that time a Bunsen burner flared up in chemistry and roasted me a bit, that _other_ time in chemistry when a kid slammed a beaker on me… The texture feels very close to actual skin. Maybe a bit smoother? It even has around the same weight, I think. I don't know how much my arm weighs, but whatever. It has weight, when before, it was just a piece of paper, which totally violates the Law of Conservation of Mass. Unless… Maybe it absorbed the mass from its surroundings? No, that doesn't make sense. Nothing in here suddenly vanished, the room's pretty much intact, and if it tried doing it with the atmosphere, it would've made a vacuum, and we'd be suffocating right now, since it takes a lot of air to make even one _gram_, let alone several pounds. Maybe there's some quantum component involved, and it got the mass from somewhere far away? Does it react to stimuli? The inside of my wrist has alway been really ticklish for some reason, so if I press right _here_…" Mason poked the printed arm, and it flipped out, spasming wildly. He wrangled with it for a moment until it calmed down. "Alright, looks like it _does _feel things. I wonder, would a completely copied person be able to see and smell and taste and stuff? Would they be able to _think?_ What would happen to any new memories it forms? Would they return to the original, or just disperse into the void? What if-?"

Mabel jumped on her brother's back, frowning when his knees didn't buckle for a second like they always did. "Stop nerding out, Broseph! Just copy the fliers! You can play with yourself _later!"_

"Mabel!" Mason dropped his third arm, scandalized. It began crawling towards Wendy, who, more than a little weirded out, poured some of her drink on it.

"Uh, dudes? This thing's melting."

Mason was next to her in an instant, crouched next to the writhing arm. "Huh. Liquid is their weakness… Makes sense, considering it's made of ink." He dipped a finger into the puddle of ink and soda that was dripping into the cracks, flowing beneath the Mystery Shack. He eyed the space between the floorboards curiously.

"Hey, do you guys think the Shack has a basement?"

* * *

"Alright, party people, let's talk business. Soos, because you work for free, and because you begged, you can be the DJ."

"You won't regret it, Mr. Pines! I got this book that'll teach me how to DJ r-r-right!"

"...Not encouraging. Wendy, you and Mabel are working the ticket stand."

"What!?" Mabel cried, startling everyone. "But Grunkle Stan, this party is my chance to make new friends!"

"Why not let Mabel go get her groove on, and Mason can work the stand with me?"

"Huh?" Mason asked, breaking out of his thoughts. He'd been staring blankly at the floor for the past few minutes, the gears in his head turning audibly.

"You, me, ticket stand, _all _night," Wendy said, a hand cutting through the air to emphasize _all._

"Oh, uh, yeah. Cool. Are we done here? I wanna go check something out."

Stan shrugged. "Yeah, that's all I wanted to stay. We're pretty much done here- but don't be late for the party! I want you all here by seven, sharp!"

"Got you, got you," Mason mumbled, bolting outside. Soos wandered up to the DJ booth to get in some practice. Wendy sighed, and Mabel put a comforting hand on her back.

"Aw, don't worry, Wen-dog. Dipper just gets lost in his head sometimes. He'll come out soon enough, and see what a great girl you are!"

Wendy smiled down at her friend. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! Besides, you've got the whole night! What could go wrong?"

* * *

A lot could go wrong, apparently. Wendy sighed for the umpteenth time already. They'd been sitting here for nearly two hours, and Mason had yet to take his head out of that _stupid_ book! Manning the admission stand just meant making sure nobody stole the cash box, and handing out tickets. Considering Mason was a hardcore brawler who could box like a champion, and Wendy was a flippin' _Corduroy_, they were the best people for the job. Wendy just wished it wasn't so _quiet_.

Finally, she decided to take a break. "Yo, I'm gonna go inside and hang with Robbie and the crew."

"Go ahead, I can handle this," Mason said absentmindedly, dragging the cash box closer to him. Wendy frowned, but did what she said she would. Nate and Lee were the first two to meet her inside.

"'Sup, girl-dude? Trouble in paradise?" Nate asked, chortling.

"Yeah, looks like you might be having some hurdles of the heart!" Lee said, pointedly glancing at the back of Mason's head through the window. Nate high-fived him, thoroughly impressed with the alliteration.

"What, you really think she's got a crush on _Pines?" _Robbie sneered, walking up to them. He had his guitar slung over his shoulder, for some reason.

"Well, she's been trying to talk to him all night, but he's stonewalled her at every turn. Guess that's why they call him Mason…" Thompson said, saddling up. It looked like he'd been dancing, judging by the traces of sweat on his forehead.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Have you guys been watching me all night?"

"Nah, we were just hanging near the window."

"Whatever. No Tambry?"

"Nah. You know she's not a party person," Lee said, pulling out his phone. "Status update; so glad I'm not at that lame Mystery Shack party," he read. "Damn, shots fired!"

"I have a feeling if she was here though, you'd probably have a better time talking to her than Mason. What the heck could be so interesting about that book that he'd ignore Wendy flippin' Corduroy?" Nate asked, pressing his face against the glass. He started making funny faces at the people in the line, getting a few laughs and glares out of them. He pulled away chuckling. "Seriously, it's kinda creepy how he manages to take their money and give them tickets without looking up from his book, and _still_ put everything in the right place."

Wendy shrugged. "Pretty sure the dude has a built in auto-pilot switch. Mabel said he's always been like this."

"Hey, where _is_ Mabel? Don't those two always stick together?" Thompson asked, glancing around the party. Lee and Nate exchanged glances, wiggling their eyebrows in sync.

"Ooh, does our lil' Thompson have a _crush?"_ Lee teased.

Nate wiped away an imaginary tear. "Our boy's growin' up so fast!" he said, voice breaking from fake sobs.

Thompson's ears turned red, and he turned on his heel to scuttle away. Lee and Nate began fist pumping, chanting "Thomp-son! Thomp-son! Thomp-son!", following him the whole way, thoroughly embarrassing the heavy-set teen. It was just Robbie and Wendy now.

"So, uh, you wanna, maybe, dance?" Robbie asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Wendy glanced out the window, at the back of Mason's still-hunched head. She sighed, missing the way Robbie's eyes glinted angrily.

"Sure, why not."

* * *

"C'mon, hurry u~p!" The shovel struck solid stone. "Yes! Presence confirmed! Why would there be stone underneath the Shack if there's no basement? It's not the foundation, since the building is raised from the ground by like, a foot, only held up by those four posts, like all old-style log cabins. There's definitely a basement, and it looks like it was added in _after_ construction on the main part of the Shack was finished. Otherwise, it would've been like that cellar by the back porch, with packed dirt walls. In fact, it must've been added in _long_ afterwards, when house-building techniques were slightly modernized! There's gotta be a way in there, and I _need _to find it."

* * *

Wendy stopped dancing with Robbie when Mabel challenged that Northwest kid to a party-off. They'd only been dancing for, like, a minute, but the redhead just wasn't feeling it tonight.

"Wha- who _cares_ what a buncha kids are doing!?" Robbie asked, irritated.

"Chill, dude! I wanna see that Northwest brat get what's coming to her!"

The first round was karaoke, and Northwest was singing some old-timey classics that were putting everyone to sleep. What a _snooze_-fest. When it was Mabel's turn, though, that awesome little rainbow had everyone jumping up and down, dancing like their lives depended on it. Some chick even got up onto the disco ball, which was at least ten feet off the ground.

Next was the dance-off. Northwest had some snazzy little spins and jumps. Mabel was going wild, though, not afraid to get all up on the floor and junk. Wendy felt her voice tear a little from cheering too hard. She coughed, and elbowed Robbie.

"Imma go get a drink. Back in a sec," she said. The emo just nodded moodily, not that Wendy noticed.

* * *

"Good thing Stan accidentally left the door unlocked. He won't check the security cams as long as I don't break anything, so I'll be fine. Alright, suspicious places in the Shack, suspicious places in- ah, who am I kiddin', this entire _place_ is suspicious! Although… That vending machine doesn't actually work. Why would Stan keep it if it's just taking up space? Unless he's just too cheap to get it removed, which I'd totally believe… Screw it, it's gettin' monitored. Where else… That dark, creepy hallway where the wax museum was found? Sure! Seems like the perfect place to hide the entrance to Schrodinger's basement."

* * *

"Let the party crown voting, commence!" Soos proclaimed. "Applaud to vote for... Mabel!"

The crowd went nuts, clapping as loud as they could. When Wendy looked down at her hands, she saw they were red from slapping together so hard. She just laughed it off. Soos held his arm above Mabel's head, his applause-o-meter, measuring the intensity of the claps with an accuracy only found in a lab. Finally, Soos raised his hands, and the noise died down.

"Now, applaud to vote for… Pacifica!"

At first, only a handful of people clapped, and Wendy was all ready to laugh, but Northwest glared at them, and soon, people were applauding loudly, if insincerely. Soos' applause-o-meter turned on, and…

"Uh-oh! A tie! This has, like, never happened before…" Soos trailed off, unsure what do, when Northwest pulled the dirtiest move ever. She ran off the stage, and up to Old Man McGucket, handing him a bill. Pretty soon, he was hooting and hollering, and Soos' applause-o-meter ticked up just the slightest.

With a weary tone, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen… We have a winner." He solemnly handed the crown over to Northwest, who a massive fake smile on her face.

"Thank you, Jorge. Thank you, everyone! Let's all go to the after-party on my parent's boat! Woohoo!" Within moments, the place was empty, Northwest herself being carried away by a group chanting her name. Robbie looked at Wendy, grinning.

"You down to party on a _boat?_"

Wendy waved him off. "Can't. Now that the party's over, Stan's gonna want us cleaning up asap, so he can open tomorrow." Robbie groaned.

"_Lame!"_

She chuckled. "Tell me about it. Have fun, try not to die. I know you never learned how to swim."

"Wh- dude!"

"Later, dude."

"...Later."

* * *

"Hey, Mason. Handle everything alright?" Wendy asked.

"Yup," he murmured, continuing to flip through the pages of the Journal, occasionally scribbling something down. Wendy sighed, grabbing the cash box.

"C'mon, let's go check in with Stan." She heard something in the woods that sounded like a bird call. Glancing around, she didn't see anything, so she decided not to worry about it.

"Uh, actually, I think I'm gonna hit the outhouse real quick. I'll be back soon." Wendy shrugged, and went inside the Shack. Meanwhile, Mason went around the corner of the building, and came face-to-face with another Mason. He handed him Journal 3, and accepted the Pitt Cola that was offered.

"Mission accomplished?" he asked, popping the tab on the can.

"Oh yeah. Got the place bugged to high hell, so I'll be able to see where the secret entrance is. Find anything new in the Journal?"

"Yeah. Wrote it all down in the fresh pages in the back. Nothing crazy, but it might come in use later." He took a swig from the can, and sighed when a hole began to form in his stomach. "It's not ideal, but… There's worse ways to go."

Mason took the can, and poured the remains on the puddle that was sinking into the dirt. He tucked the Journal into his jacket, and entered the Shack, taking one last look at the wet dirt.

"Rest in peace, Tyrone. You were a great clone."


	7. Chapter 7

"Welcome to 1863!"

"I will _break_ you, little man!" Stan roared, sending Toby Determined running. The fake reporter managed to trip over a barrel that was almost the same height as him, but got up and kept running.

"Does rolling up your sleeves actually make you seem more intimidating?" Mason asked, eyeing Stan's now-bare arm.

"'Course it does. It means you know things are about to get dirty, because you're the one _makin'_ it dirty!"

"Hm… Maybe _I_ should start wearing long sleeves."

They were downtown, where everything had been converted to the 1800s, to celebrate Pioneer Day. Stan hated it- called the people yahoos for dressing up like this, and talking the way they did. Mason didn't particularly care, but Mabel was _entranced_.

"Yoohoo! Miss Mabel!"

And suddenly she was much less entranced. Mabel shivered, then glanced up at her twin, who was scowling harder than even Stan, who'd had decades to practice.

"Uh, hey, Gideon," she said, laughing nervously. Mason adjusted his cap. The little pig stopped his approach to eye the two male Pines.

"Stan. Mason." They didn't reply, and Gideon took that as an invite to court Mabel.

"Mabel, you didn't show up to our last date. I was wondering if everything was alright?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine! I just, um, wasn't feeling well! I tried, uh, bedazzling my teeth, and I ended up swallowing a buncha glitter. Had to go to the hospital," she said, rubbing the back of her head embarrassedly. Gideon gasped.

"That's terrible! I hope you're alright now!"

"I'm fine, Gideon."

"Really? You're lookin' a little pale. You know, it would put my widdle ol' heart at ease if I could make sure you were back to full health, so why don't I accompany you around the festival?"

"Uh, Gideon, I'm _really_ fine…"

"I insist, Mabel," Gideon, reaching for her hand. Mason grabbed his wrist halfway in a vice grip, causing the kid to squeak in shock.

"She _said_ she's fine, kid," Mason snarled, barely holding back the urge to sock the kid in front of the entire town. He tossed Gideon's arm back, and wiped his hand on his shorts.

"Mason Pines…" Gideon growled, cradling his rapidly-bruising wrist, before brightening unnaturally quick. "Actually, Mason, I'd like to talk to you for a moment. Care to step aside with me?"

Mason exchanged glances with Mabel and Stan, both of whom seemed to think it was a bad idea. Mason nodded anyways, following Gideon out of the town square.

"_Dona Mihi Visus,"_ he muttered, his vision lighting up. He'd learned that spells didn't actually need the gestures. The purpose of the gesture was to focus the natural magic of the earth and the atmosphere into your body. Gesture-less spells just required more innate magic, and for a low level piece of magic like the Sight Spell, it was unnoticeable. Gideon had two spots of magic on him. One around his throat- probably his amulet- and one in his pocket. The second one was somewhat square in shape.

Gideon led him into an alleyway, and when they passed a dumpster, Mason grabbed the kid by his shoulder, twisting him around and punching him across the face, careful to tone back his Manotaur-enhanced strength. While the pig was disoriented, Mason grabbed the amulet around his neck, ripping it off his collar. Immediately, he reached into it, to ascertain its abilities.

"So, this thing is what gives you your telekinesis? Your psychic powers are probably linked to it, too…" Mason muttered. Pressing his fingers against the jewel, he held up his hand, and _focused_. Tendrils of magic, only visible to him because of the Sight Spell, began flowing off his fingers, like puppet strings, and wrapped around Gideon, holding him up.

"G-give that back!" the kid choked out, fat fingers scrambling against the invisible force around his neck, legs kicking wildly. Focusing another tendril of magic, Mason pushed it into Gideon's ear, and within moments he was skimming the boy's surface level thoughts, careful not to push too deep before he lost focus and let Gideon go by accident.

_Air- breathe- Stupid Pines- my amulet!- what do I do!?_

Mason pulled back, allowing the quiet of the alley to wash over him. Using the amulet, he yanked out the second magic artifact on the kid out of his suit pocket. It was a book, and flipping it over revealed a gold handprint, with six fingers.

"_The second Journal!" _Mason hissed, instantly tucking it away into his jacket. "Kid, you just made the _best_ mistake of your life. At least, for me." Mason began to wonder what he should do now. He couldn't very well leave Gideon to go run around and probably call the police on him. Mason nearly facepalmed when he realized the answer was literally in his hand.

_I'll use the Amulet to make him forget! Duh!_ _Alright, shouldn't be too hard. The worst part of forcing your way into someone's mind is trying to find what you're looking for, according to all the books I've read, but Gideon can hardly breathe, he's too terrified to think properly right now. In theory, it should be easy. Well, here goes nothing._

* * *

In practice, it was even easier. All Mason had to do was delve a _little_ bit deeper in Gideon's mind, accessing his short term memory, and imagining a pencil eraser wiping everything away, leaving a blank white slate. The only thing the boy could think of at the moment was his current predicament, but just to be safe, Mason went as far back as to when Gideon woke up for the day, which was the ungodly hour of five AM. Leaving Gideon unconscious behind the dumpster, he quickly rejoined his family, who hadn't moved.

"What's with the grin, kid? You manage to swindle that little brat or something?" Stan asked, smiling as well. Mason's manic glee was infectious.

"Somethin' like that," Mason said quietly, not elaborating. "May, I'm in a good mood right now, so go crazy."

"Yes!" the girl cried, grabbing his hand and dragging him off to explore Gravity Falls, 1863.

* * *

"Howdy, everyone! You all know me, Pacifica Northwest, great-great-granddaughter of town founder, Nathaniel Northwest. I'm also very rich. Now, if _you've_ got the pioneer spirit, we ask you to come on up and introduce yourself!"

"Dipper, I'm goin' up there!" Mabel proclaimed, and ran up onto the stage before he could try and talk sense into her. He could only now wait for the inevitable. "Hi Pacifica!" she cried, waving at the girl who was literally only a foot away.

"_Mabel."_

Meanwhile, in the two seconds it took the blonde to spit out her rival's name, said rival had managed to coerce the crowd into chanting "U.S.A! U.S.A!" Even Mason was chanting, but that's only because it was Mabel.

"I'm sorry to break it to you," Pacifica said snootily, "But Pioneer Day is for _serious_ people. You look _and_ act ridiculous." She pointed to Mabel's purple sweater. "Like, a puppy playing basketball? Are you _always _this silly?"

When Mabel started to draw into herself, Mason was overcome with the intense urge to use his newfound telekinetic powers to rip Pacifica's tongue out her mouth. He stayed cool, though. Murder probably wouldn't be helpful for anyone involed. Maybe.

He was still going up onstage, though.

"Hey," he rumbled, voice purposely an octave deeper. "No need to get all snippy. She's just tryin' to have some fun."

"Yeah? There's having fun, and then, there's being an absolute _clown_. The girl is wearing _nachos_ for _earrings!"_

"And you got shovel heads dangling off _your _ears. I wouldn't be talkin' if I were you."

"Are you seriously saying that to me? Did you forget your place, peasant?"

"Nah. I'm right where I belong. You, however, are not. So why don't you go back to sittin' pretty in your massive mansion on the other side of town?"

"Oh? You think I'm pretty? Well, I suppose even a commoner can have some sense every once in a while."

Mason shrugged. "Yeah, I think you're pretty. In the plastic, Barbie doll kinda way. Ya know- _fake_. C'mon, May. Let's blow this pop stand." Mason wrapped an arm around Mabel's shoulders. The twins strolled off the stage, ignoring the demonic shrieks from the blonde, and the awed stares of the townspeople.

Five minutes later, they were sitting in front of the statue of Nathaniel Northwest. Mabel was curled up into Mason's side, her brother rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah, May?"

"Do you think I'm… Silly?"

Mason shrugged. "Sorta, yeah. But it's the _right_ kinda silly."

"What's that mean?"

"Like, you can make people smile when you do your crazy junk. Blondie's the kinda silly that makes me pity her."

"Really? Why?"

"'Cause she can't see the truth that's right in front her eyes. She thinks money's everything. I won't lie, money can get you a lotta things, but she can't buy what we _peasants_ have. Ya know. Love."

"Awww… I love you, Brochacho!" Mabel cried, wrapping her arms around Mason's waist.

"I love you too, May. And I wouldn't give that up for all the money in the world."

* * *

A week later, someone knocked on the front door of the Shack, forcing Mason to pull his nose out of the newly-acquired Journal 2. He opened the door, grumbling, and nearly closed it again. Well, he did try, but the person on the other side stuck their foot in the doorway. Mason made sure to smash it closed incredibly hard (not as hard as he could, obviously. He didn't wanna chop their foot off), only opening the door completely when he heard the screech of pain.

"Whaddaya want, Northwest?" he asked casually, grinning at the girl who was hopping up and down on one foot, her elegant airs dashed away.

"You- brute! How dare you!?"

"Hey, you stuck your foot in the way. Not _my _fault you're an idiot."

You…! Ooh!" She turned away, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. When she turned around, her apathetic face was back on- but she still was standing on one foot. "I've come to request help."

Mason half-stifled a snort, turning away from the door to try and compose himself. He failed, miserably. Seconds later, he was on his knees, clutching the door frame as he laughed his gut into oblivion.

"Oh god… Hurts so good…" he wheezed, red from to the lack of oxygen. It took a long time (like, three whole minutes) for him to regain his composure. He still couldn't look the blonde in the eye without chuckling, though. "That's rich," he said, breathing a little heavily. "That's almost as rich as _you_."

"Yes, I know, I have a lot of money," she said, tossing her hair back with a hand, like the models in those commercials. "So?"

"So what?"

"_So,_ will you help me?"

"Help with what? You never told me that."

"Obviously because you were too busy braying like a donkey!"

"Yeah, because _you _were too busy acting like an ass last time we met, and now you want _my_ help?"

"You take that back this instant!"

"You apologize to my sister first."

"Absolutely not!"

"Then I guess you'll just have to live with knowing a commoner called you an ass to your face."

Pacifica growled, hands curling into fists. "Are you going to help me or not!?"

"I'll ask you again; with _what?"_

"My mansion is haunted!"

"And_?"_

"_And_ my parents are hosting their annual ball _tonight_. If this ghost ruins it for them, their social reputations will be _destroyed!"_

Mason leaned against the door frame. "Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"So shouldn't I leave it alone?"

"What!? Why would you do that!?"

"It's _your_ parents' reputation, isn't it? That's not my family, and frankly, I don't give a damn."

"Dipper, who's at the door!?"

"Some door-to-door salesman. I'm makin' 'em go away right now."

"It sounds like-!"

Mason slammed the door shut, ignoring the rich girl pounding on it from the other side. "It's no one, May. Seriously. Don't worry about it." Of course, that didn't stop the girl from speeding down the steps. Mason put his body between his sister and the door, not allowing her past, no matter how adorable her puppy-dog eyes were.

"_PINES, YOU BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT, OR I'LL SUE YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU OWN!"_

Mabel gasped. "That sounds like Pacifica!" She gave Mason a hug, and right when he hesitantly went to return it, she slipped past him, yanking the door open, completely ignoring the look of heartbroken betrayal on Mason's face. "Hi Pacifica!"

"...Mabel. Would you please explain to your brother that he should be grateful I'm even asking him for help?"

The brunette turned to her brother, but he quickly placed a hand over her mouth.

"May, do you remember what happened last week?" Mabel nodded. "You remember how Northwest embarrassed you in front of the entire town?" Mabel nodded. "Then that means you know why we _shouldn't_ help her, right?" Mabel started to nod, then she shook her head. Mason opened his mouth to try and convince his sister of the contrary, when he pulled his hand back like it was burned. "Did you seriously lick me!?"

Mabel stuck her tongue out in a wide-mouth smile, then turned to the blonde. "Of course we'll help you, Pacifica! Uh, what do you need help with?"

"My mansion is haunted."

"Like, a ghost!?"

"That's what haunted tends to mean," the rich girl drawled. Mabel pounced on Mason.

"Broseph, we have to help her!"

"But-"

"I'll pay you," Pacifica cut in. "Obviously, I was going to anyways, but I'll sweeten the deal. Five-thousand dollars, _and_ tickets to the Northwest annual ball."

Mabel's squeal was deafening. Mason had to take a few steps back to try and stop the ringing in his ears, to no avail. "...I think I have tinnitus now."

"Aw, suck it up, Bro-Bro! It's tickets to the _biggest_ event in the _country!_ There's gonna be millionaires _and_ billionaires! We have to go!" Mabel put on the sad eyes again, and Mason felt her soulful gaze tugging at his heart. He'd already used up most of his resistance trying- and failing- to keep her from opening the door, so he only lasted a few seconds before slumping his shoulders.

"...Fine," he muttered moodily. At least there was a consolation hug, which didn't turn out to be fake this time.

"Oh, by the way, can we have tickets for Candy and Grenda, too!?"

Pacifica scoffed. "_Those_ dweebs? You honestly-?" She cut herself off when she saw Mason's intense glare hovering over Mabel's shoulder. He looked a second away from ripping her throat out, and she had to use all her practice in keeping her composure to not shiver. "Um, alright! So, five thousand dollars and four tickets! I can totally do that!"

"_Yus._ I'm gonna go get Candy and Grenda- they're upstairs. Oh, what am I gonna wear!?" She disappeared up the stairs, caterwauling the entire way. Mason gestured for Pacifica to come inside, but the moment she was over the threshold, he slammed the door and shoved her up against it. A hand on her shoulder kept her pinned to the wood, the vice-grip threatening to turn her bones to powder.

"I'm only gonna say this once, so you better listen," he snarled, leaning closer to look her straight in the eye. "If you _ever_ hurt Mabel again, I will break your _everything_. Got me?" he asked. Normally, Pacifica would've never obeyed an order from a mere peasant, but between the pain blooming from her shoulder, which she was sure would be bruised in minutes, and the terrifying scarlet gaze boring into her- that had to be a trick of the light, right?- she relented. Nodding pitifully, Mason released his hold on her, leaving her gasping for air she didn't know she needed. "So, what's this ghost been doing?"

Pacifica took a long while to recover from having her soul scared out of her. "It's, uh… It's been making things float, and throwing them at us. Like, plates and candleholders, and stuff."

Mason nodded, tugging on the brim of his cap. "Sounds like a category one. Only way to get rid of those is to ignore them for a few decades, or-"

"Decades!? The party's _next week!"_

He glared at her, and the girl quieted down. "If you'd let me _finish_," he hissed, "Anointed water works, too." He pulled Journal 3 out of his jacket, flipping to the entry for ghosts. "Journal says… Gotta use the spell Benedicite_,_ Latin for _bless,_ whilst pouring magic into water. The amount of magic is proportional to the amount of water. Lucky me, I have the perfect thing for that." Mason went into the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of water. He placed it on the living room table, then pulled the Amulet out of his pocket. Making sure the gem was in contact with his skin, he raised an arm. Magic began pouring out of his finger, floating over to the water, completely ignoring the plastic shell. "_Benedicite."_

The bottle glowed a bit, a pale white light, before darkening. It looked exactly the same as before.

"Uh… Are you sure that worked?" Pacifica asked cautiously, not wanting to set the teen off anymore.

"Yeah. There's a _very_ slight blue tint to it now." He passed the bottle to the blonde, who examined it closely.

"Oh, I see it. So, what, you just splash this on the ghost?"

"Pretty much. That's the easy part. It's _finding _the ghost that's difficult, since they can turn invisible and go through walls and junk. It's annoying."

"You sound like you have experience."

"Well, I punched a ghost's head off, and snapped the neck of another, so I kinda do."

Pacifica gaped at him, speechless. She knew what it sounded like when people were making things up to boast, and it didn't sound like _that_. He was completely serious. Suddenly, she felt very lucky that she got off with only a bruised shoulder, and silently swore to never be rude to the Pines twins again.

At that moment, a redhead walked into the living room. "Yo yo!" Wendy said, giving Mason a little wave. "So, uh, why's Pacifica Northwest in your living room, dude?"

"We're going to get a ghost wet at her mansion."

Both girls turned red at the innuendo. "Dude, phrasing!" Wendy cried, flapping her hands in disgust.

"Pines, can you _be _any more crass!?"

"Well, I'm not _wrong_. We're literally going to spill anointed water on it, and water is wet, and things with water _on_ them are wet, so…"

"It's an _exorcism_, not… Whatever you said!" Pacifica protested. Mason shrugged, and turned to Wendy.

"You down for some Mystery Trio junk?" he asked, holding his a fist out. Wendy bumped it.

"Heck yeah, dude-bro. I'm always down for some good ol' cryptid hunting- plus, my shift just ended. I hope it doesn't end up like the last time we ran into ghosts."

"No promises. But, it's only a category one, and the ones from the Dusk 2 Dawn were… Category two, I think. Pranksters, although they don't carry those stupid 'kick me' signs around. Not three- they didn't have any especially strong body odor. Not four, since they weren't associated with any pictures or paintings. Definitely not five and above, otherwise we wouldn't even be alive."

"...Did you understand any of that?" Pacifica asked the redhead. Wendy shrugged.

"I've learned to just go with it when he nerds out."

Mason sighed.

* * *

"May, you have a glue gun stuck to your dress," Mason said, pointing at the feathery monstrosity she'd managed to paste together in mere hours.

"I know that, silly! It's there in case I need to make emergency repairs!"

"...Right." He went back to talking quietly with Wendy, whilst trying his best to ignore Candy and Grenda, who were staring at him from the other side of the limo. This happened far too often for his liking. Mabel tried to soothe him by insisting it was because he was "hotter than the midsummer sun," which was, oddly enough, the complete opposite of comforting. The limo pulled over, and the teens filed out, walking in through the massive front doors.

"Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks," Pacifica said snobbishly, spreading her arms. "Try not to touch anything." So, of course, Mabel and her friends ran off and immediately began touching _everything_. Mabel even fiddled with the face of one of the butlers.

"Yes, very good, miss." Pacifica sighed, and they finally reached her parents.

"Ah, the man of the hour," Preston said grandly. "Hopefully, you can help us with our… _Situation,_ before the guests arrive?"

Mason shrugged. "Category one ghost. Should be in n' out in ten minutes. Once I _find_ it, of course."

"Wonderful! Pacifica, escort our guests to the problem room. And, uh, Mr. Pines… You're not going to be wearing _that_, are you?" he asked, gesturing to Mason's sweatpants, t-shirt, and customary vest jacket.

"I can change, if you got somethin' for me."

"Perfect!

* * *

Mason walked out of the changing room, tugging on his collar. "I wish I learned how to tie a damned tie…" he grumbled, the piece of cloth hanging on his shoulders. Instantly, Pacifica had stepped up to him, and was fiddling with it. "Is this even necessary?" he asked.

"Of course it is," Pacifica hissed. "High standards are what make the Northwest family great." Mason rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "And stop moving, would you?" she growled, slapping his chest in irritation once she was done.

Wendy walked out of the changing room across from his, and his eyes widened in shock. She wore a ruby red dress. It was strapless, showing off her slender shoulders, and the bottom cut off halfway down her waist in the front, while the back tapered off into a point somewhere behind her knees. Her forest-green eyes popped due to the black eyeliner, her freckles were covered with a light dusting of foundation, and her lips were covered in cherry red lipstick. Overall, she looked stunning.

"Wow."

Wendy turned as red as the rest of her, and she tugged on the hem of her dress, fighting the urge to cover herself up. Instead, she did a little spin, revealing how tightly the outfit hugged her body.

"Do you… Like it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Like it? Wendy, you look gorgeous!" he exclaimed, circling around Pacifica to approach her. He missed the way the blonde's face contorted into a scowl. "Although, it's a bit weird seeing you without your freckles."

"Yeah? Well, it's kinda weird seein' you without your hat."

"It _feels_ weird, too," Mason muttered, ruffling the brown bird's nest on his head. "Now people can actually _see_ how screwy my hair is." They both laughed at that. Now that he was standing right in front of the redhead, he noticed something a bit off. He took a step back, and looked down at her feet. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "How high are your heels!?"

Wendy glanced down at the polished ruby stilettos. "They're only, like, two inches."

"_Only two inches_, she says," Mason mocked, smiling. "I was wonderin' why I couldn't see the top of your head like normal."

"Dude!" Wendy laughed, stepping forward to playfully punch him in the shoulder. At least, she tried to. Unfortunately, she wasn't that used to moving around in heels, only wearing them on very special occasions. She began to tip forward, and would have fallen flat on her nose, if Mason hadn't moved closer, catching her by the arms. She bounced against his solid chest, and reflexively looked up into his chocolate brown eyes.

_He's… Really close._ She could feel the heat of his breath on the tip of her nose. If she leaned up, just a tiny bit, she could probably-

"_Ahem."_

Wendy jumped back, barely keeping her balance, leaving Mason staring at the empty space where she had been. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat and dropping his arms to his side.

"Uh, right. Ghost. Lead the way, Blondie." He slung his ratty backpack over his shoulder, following the Northwest heiress, both him and Wendy avoiding looking at each other.

* * *

"This is the main room it's been happening," Pacifica said opening the door to a firelite study. There were taxidermied animal heads covering the front of the walls. The back wall was an extensive bookshelf, the far well a series of large windows. A pool table and stuffed bear statue were the only pieces of furniture, aside from a single cushioned armchair next to the fireplace.

"Yeah… This looks like the type of place to be haunted," Mason muttered. "_Dona Mihi Visus_."

"Whoa. Mason, your eyes are glowing, dude."

Mason blinked, holding a hand in front of his face. Two small, circular lights appeared on his palm. "What the heck? They've never done _that_ before… Maybe my magic's getting stronger, since I'm actually using it now? Or… Maybe it's because of this thing." He dug the Amulet out of his dress pants, watching the magic flow around it for a moment. Perhaps it was making his innate magic more potent? It'd definitely have to get stronger, for it to be able to interact with the outside world without being shaped by spells. The amulet wasn't providing the mana, it only provided a focus. He decided to keep it in his hand for the moment, in case he needed to prevent the ghost from running off. Whatever it was that had possessed him at the Dusk 2 Dawn allowed him to make physical contact with those ghosts, but he didn't want to rely on that. Plus, he'd been coughing up blood afterwards, something that he wanted to avoid, just on principle.

Whatever that thing was, that strange clarity that filled his head whenever he fought against the supernatural, it was beginning to hurt him as much as it helped him. If he didn't figure it out, _fast_, he might reach some point of no return. That's why he'd spent the past week collecting the materials he needed for the ritual described in Journal 3. After this debacle was over, he'd summon that triangle demon, the first chance he got, and grill it for answers. Nodding resolutely, he turned his gaze to the room, and nearly panicked.

"Ah, shit. Ladies, I don't think this is a category one ghost."

"Wait, what? Dumb it down for those of us not using some spell on our eyeballs, dude."

"There's a ton of magic surrounding that portrait," he said, pointing at the painting of a big dude, with a curly beard that would make Manly Dan jealous, and an axe slung over his shoulder. "Typically, the only ghosts associated with portraits are category fours, in which case anointed water will only irritate them. We'll need a silver mirror to trap it."

"**Ancient blood and blackened skies, the forest dark shall once more rise!**" the taxidermied heads began to chant, blood spilling out of their impossibly-moving heads. The fireplace roared as the flames flared like a blast furnace, and a skeletal had shot out, like a demon from hell. A body soon followed, and the bones were rapidly covered in blue-tinted flesh to form the same figure that had been in the now-empty painting. He lacked the facial hair, though, and there was an axe splitting his bald skull.

"**I smell… A **_**Northwest!**_" the ghost bellowed, blue fire shooting out of his jaw to form an impressive beard and mustache.

"Now would be a good time to get that mirror, Pacifica!" Mason urged, stepping forward. He dropped his bag to the ground, pulling out his bottle of anointed water to at least distract the ghost, when it exploded in his hands, drenching him. Growling, he pressed his fingers against the Amulet, and flung out a hand. His magic responded instantly, the blue tendrils flowing from his hands like torrents, surrounding the lumberjack. They wrapped around him, binding his arms to his sides. His roars of anger shook the room, sending books and mounted heads to the floor.

"I-I don't know where any silver mirrors are! The only one is in the room with my parent's favorite white carpet pattern, but they'll _kill_ me if I go in there!"

"Are you gonna ignore the fact that this _ghost_ is gonna kill you first?" Wendy asked, gesturing at the restrained lumberjack. He stopped his struggling to look straight at Pacifica with his single eye.

"**I'll kill you!**" He resumed his struggling, and sweat began to bead down Mason's face. His magic was dispersing naturally after being outside of his body for so long. He could see the particles breaking away, forcing him to constantly resupply the arcane ropes, but he could only hold out for so long. A novice like him simply didn't have the large mana reserves necessary to tackle something like this.

"Wendy, ditch the heels and get ready to run," he groaned. "I can't hold this thing much longer!" The redhead did as he commanded, and right when she'd tossed the second stiletto aside, his grasp on the ghost slipped. "_Run!" _he cried, turning on his heel. He made sure to keep pace with Wendy and Pacifica, who was struggling with her much shorter strides. They made turn after turn, until Mason saw a completely white room at the end of the hall. Inside, he saw the silver mirror.

"There it is!" he yelled, fully intent on entering the room, carpet-be-damned. At least, he _was,_ until the blonde managed to pull ahead of him just enough to trip him. He tumbled for at least a dozen feet, landing on his back, dazed.

"What the _hell_, Northwest!?" Wendy screamed, stopping to help Mason up. "Are you _trying_ to get us all killed!?"

"We have to find another way!" Pacifica shouted, glancing back down the hall nervously. The temper she inherited from Manly Dan boiled over, and Wendy shoved Pacifica hard. The girl went stumbling back, bumping into a painting that reached down to the floor, and falling right through.

"Uh…"

"C'mon," Mason hissed. "We gotta go after her." Nodding dumbly, Wendy followed. They slid down a tube, landing in a heap. Wendy found herself straddling the brunet, and they stared at each other for a second, noses nearly touching, staring deeply into each others eyes. Almost against her will, Wendy found herself leaning forward, inch by inch, so close to-

"_Ahem._"

She shot up, dusting herself off, looking anywhere but at the stunned boy laying on the floor. Mason coughed, then sat up, surveying the room. "Looks like a storage room of some kind… But why is it hidden behind a painting?" Mason muttered, climbing to his feet.

"I don't even know where this room is," Pacifica said, walking over to a large object with a tarp covering it. "Hopefully, the ghost doesn't either." She turned to look at the other two teens.

The girl spoke too soon, however. Behind her, the tarp began lifting up, taking on the shape of the lumberjack that had been chasing them. Wendy yelped in alarm.

"Pacifica, behind you!" Pacifica looked back, and immediately jumped out the way, narrowly avoiding the meaty arms the closed on empty air. She knocked over a box in her haphazard roll, spilling random objects on the floor. With his eyes enhanced by the Sight Spell, Mason easily caught the glint of magic in one of the items; a silver mirror. He leaped at the lumberjack, punching it in its surprisingly-solid gut.

"Wendy, there's a silver mirror in that pile! Grab it!" Mason pulled up his guard, slipping past a downward axe swing to slam a fist into his opponent's chest. His enormous strength, improved even further from religiously working out with the Manotaurs every morning, shoved the huge ghost back a few feet, Mason sticking close to land several more bullet-quick punches, his skin getting slightly singed from the blue-fire beard. He stepped back, only narrowly dodging a sweep of the lumberjack's weapon. The edge caught on his suit, cutting a slit across the black jacket and red button-up.

"Mason, catch!" Wendy cried. He peddled backwards to get some more space, snatching the handheld mirror out of the air, and turning it towards the lumberjack right in time for the ghost to be sucked into the reflective surface. Breathing heavily, the three teens reveled in the silence. Suddenly, Mason found arms wrapped around him.

"We did it!" Pacifica cried, squeezing him tighter. "Thank you so much! My parents will be so happy to hear about this!" Hesitantly, Mason wrapped his arms back around the girl, deciding it was the right decision when she didn't try to slap him. He looked at Wendy, who seemed a bit disgruntled.

"Did… Did the _thing_ happen? You know, the red eyes and junk?" Wendy shook her head, a smile growing on her lips despite the sight in front of her.

"Nope. All you, Mason. You totally just socked a ghost in the gut, dude. Talk about mad skills."

Mason slumped in relief, resting his chin on Pacifica's blonde hair. He started to chuckle, and pretty soon, he was sitting on the floor, laughing his heart out. He'd accidentally dragged down a disgruntled Northwest Heiress with him, so she was on her hands and knees between his long legs. She was so ready to berate him, but then she looked at him, took in the scars stretching down his right cheek, the sweat that covered his forehead, the toothy grin that showed almost all his teeth, the way his warm brown eyes were glowing with both arcane energy and sheer joy, and decided…

_He might be the most beautiful man I've ever seen._

* * *

"Well, Pacifica, you really found the right man for the job!" Preston praised. He snapped his fingers, and the butler who Mabel had assaulted earlier began to shake Mason's hand.

"We can't thank you enough!" Priscilla said. A moment later, she said, "That's enough." The butler stepped away. Pacifica's parents went back inside to socialise, leaving the teens to stand around, unsure of what to do.

"Is there anywhere we can sit down?" Mason asked Pacifica. "I gotta wait until May's ready to leave, and I can't exactly go around a rich-people party like _this_." He gestured to the rip in his shirt that revealed his impressive eight-pack and chiseled obliques. Pacifica stared for a long time, until Wendy cleared her throat, breaking the shorter girl from her trance.

"Uh, yeah! There are several private sitting rooms all around the mansion! I can get one of the butlers to lead Mabel there when you're ready." Mason smiled genuinely at her, and Pacifica's knees wobbled a bit.

"Really? That'd be great!"

"Well. if you'll follow me?" She grabbed him by the elbow. Not really knowing how this worked, Mason crooked his arm, like how'd he seen those fancy people do on TV, and the blonde grinned up at him. He was riding too high on accomplishment to realize that this was really weird, or to see the scowl on Wendy's face. It was the first supernatural entity he'd overcome without the help of that… _Phenomenon_. He was allowed to act a little goofy.

"Hey, Mason, I think I'm gonna go check in with Mabel," Wendy said, not really wanting to be around the two right now.

Mason grimaced. "You probably should. Knowing her, she might accidentally start an international incident- there are important people from other countries here, right?"

Pacifica shuddered. "Yeah, like Marius, the Baron of Austria. He's around our age, I think."

"Yikes. May's definitely gonna try and hit on him, then. She hit her boy crazy phase when we were twelve, and she never really _stopped_, you know? She takes _way_ too many of her cues from those trashy romance novels, though. Like, Jane Eyre? Good book, _horrible_ relationship. How the heck did Jane fall in love with Rochester when they were hardly in the same room for more than, like, twenty minutes?"

"Are you kidding me, Pines? Don't you understand anything about the romance of suspense? There's this thing called _keeping them coming back for more_, you know."

"Alright. I'll just, um… Go…" Wendy muttered, walking into the main entrance when she realized neither teen was listening to her anymore. They were too caught up in conversation about some nerd thing she couldn't really follow.

* * *

Mason leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from a glass of cider. His throat was dry from talking and laughing so much- something that had honestly never happened to him before. Back in Piedmont, he kept to himself. The only time he really interacted with people was to beat the crud out them, so being in this fancy manor, having a full, intellectual conversation with Pacifica? He was actually enjoying himself.

"You know, I might've been wrong about you," he said, switching gears from their ongoing conversation about the best novels for each genre, and the best in general. "I thought you were just some stuck-up rich brat who threw money at her problems to make them go away, but…"

"But…?"

"I dunno. You're, like… A normal person? But with a fatter wallet. And a better house. And way, way, _way_ more hairspray."

"Hey!" Pacifica cried indignantly, though she was still smiling. "I'll have you know it's not easy maintaining such perfection!" She flipped her head, shining locks flowing through the air.

"Yeah, just add some dye-"

"My hair is natural!"

Cruel, bellowing laughter made them pause their antics. The sound was coming from… The mirror? Mason picked it up, and saw the lumberjack ghost chortling raucously.

"Dude, why're you laughing? You're trapped in this dinky little mirror."

"Because, boy- you've been had. You remind me of me, a hundred and fifty years ago. I, too, once believed the Northwests to be kind folk. Nathaniel Northwest enlisted the aid of my fellow lumberfolk and I, to build the mansion you sit in now. He promised that every year, he would throw a grand ball, and all would be invited to join the merriment. Well, seasons passed, lives were lost, and Northwest Manor completed. Do you know what Nathaniel Northwest did, boy? Do you?"

"Uh, Mason? Do you really think it's a good idea to be listening to the ghost that was literally trying to _kill us_ an hour ago?" Pacifica asked, hands fisting the frilly skirt of her dress. Mason waved her off.

"What'd he do?"

"_HE TURNED HIS BACK ON US! _That lying, deceiving bastard! He closed his doors on us common folk, deeming us unfit to enter the gates that _we _built! While my fellow lumberfolk left, dejected, I alone stood in the pouring rain, banging on the massive gates, demanding entry. Unfortunately, with the trees no longer there, the dirt uphill was without an anchor. I was swept away in a mudslide, and in the chaos… My own axe split my skull." He gestured to the massive gash in the middle of his skull. "And so I said, with final breath, one-fifty years I'll return from death, and if the gate's still closed to town, _**wealthy blood will stain the ground**_. A curse passed down- until this day."

The implications hit Mason immediately, and he turned his stone-cold gaze on Pacifica. "You knew about this," he said hollowly.

"I…"

"You _knew_."

"I… I did- but you have to understand, my parents-!"

Mason was on his feet, fists slamming into the table so hard the legs collapsed. "You knew, and yet you didn't even _think_ to warn me!? You let Mabel come here when we were so unprepared!? _SHE COULD HAVE DIED IF WE MESSED UP!"_

Pacifica opened her mouth, to try and defend herself, throat almost closed up, but Mason was already storming out the room.

* * *

"_**Northwest."**_

The name was hissed, yet it was still heard over the whine of the violins, and the chatter of dozens of socialites. Conversation paused, the music stopped, and every person in the venue turned to look at who had spoken; a tall, brown-haired teen with glowing red eyes, sharp teeth bared in a vicious snarl, and pointed ears that twitched every few seconds. The crowd parted, forming a path directly to Preston Northwest, who looked as fearful as everyone in his immediate vicinity. Soon, he was alone, and Mason stalked up to him, unimpeded.

"_**You knew."**_

"I- I knew what?"

A clawed hand was set on his shoulder, gently, betraying the crushing force that sent him to his knees in an instant.

"_**You knew about the curse."**_

"I don't know what you're talking ab-!" Preston began screaming, as the pressure on his shoulder increased tenfold. In the back of his mind, he was amazed his bones hadn't been turned to dust under his skin. The rest was writhing in pain.

"_**Don't. Lie."**_

"O-okay, so I knew about the curse! What, what did you expect me to do!? Rub elbows with _your_ kind!?"

Mason drew a fist back, and Preston closed his eyes, unable to look at what would surely be his death.

"Dipper! Let him go!"

Preston was dropped to the ground, unconscious before his head bounced off the polished granite. He'd passed out from fear, and if one looked closely, they would see the charcoal-black fabric of his dress pants turning darker. Meanwhile, Mabel was slowly approaching Mason.

"What were you about to do to him, Dipper?"

"_**...Don't know. He deserves it."**_

"Were you gonna kill him?"

Mason shrugged. "_**He knew that the ghost was strong. He lied. You could have died."**_

"But I didn't. So what would killing him have achieved?"

"_**He'll never hurt you again."**_

"Mr. Northwest never hurt me in the first place. Are you just gonna kill anyone that _could_ be a threat to me? Because right now, _you're_ the biggest danger to me."

Mason's jaw dropped, his scarlet eyes widening. His mouth began working silently, trying to form words, but failing. He started to walk towards his sister, arms outstretched to reach her further.

"Don't come any closer."

Mason froze in his tracks. Tears began to stream down his cheeks, his face morphing into an expression of pure agony.

"I don't want you near me until you stop… _Whatever_ this is." She gestured at his changed features.

A keening wail pierced the eardrums of everyone in the manor, and they watched in fascination as the boy's altered body began to shift back to what it once was. Pacifica chose this moment to step closer to Mabel.

"Let's bring him back to the private sitting room." Mabel nodded, and held her arm out to her brother. He approached slowly, grabbing the offered like he was afraid it would be snatched away at the last second. His hunched shoulders were shaking from repressed sobs, and his eyes were glued to the floor. Mabel had to tug him along, guiding him so he didn't bump into any of the awestruck party-goers. Wendy joined their rag-tag group after working her way through the crowd.

When they finally reached the room, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, Mabel finally turned around to face her brother. She found him on his knees, forehead resting against the floor, and coughing up pint after pint of blood, forming a small lake that soaked into his hair and borrowed suit.

"'M sorry, I'm so, so sorry…!" he wailed, voice thick with emotion. Tears and mucus and ichor leaked from his orifices. His hands clenched around his shirt, right over his heart, trying in vain to ease the metaphysical pain. Unaware of the panic of the three girls surrounding him, he cried himself into oblivion.

* * *

Pacifica immediately screamed for help, and received it in the form of multiple butlers. She ordered them to contact the Northwest family's personal team of medical professionals, take Mason to a guest room, and clean him up as well as they could. The butlers trooped the unconscious Mason out of the room, leaving the three girls behind.

Wendy was still staring at the puddle of crimson on the floor, so pale someone might think _her _to be the one that spit up half the blood in her body. Mabel was forced to take a seat, emotionally drained from having to put on a no-nonsense facade for so long, even if it _was_ to help her brother. Pacifica, on the other hand, still had one last thing to take care of. She grabbed the hand mirror on the table, and walked out into the empty corridor.

"What is it that you want!?" she hissed at the lumberjack.

"You already know, Northwest."

Pacifica sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair out of place. All this stress was making her hair frizzy. Unfortunately, she _did_ know what the ghost wanted, but it was the one thing she couldn't do.

"I _can't_. You don't understand, you stupid ghost. If I try to open those gates, my parents will… Use the _bell_."

There was quiet in the hallway for a bit, before the lumberjack began cracking up. "A mighty Northwest, a bastion of perfection, is afraid of a little _bell!?"_

"It's not _just_ a bell! I've been conditioned from literally since I can remember to obey them whenever they use that stupid hunk of junk! I _know_ it can't do anything, but my body won't listen to me!"

"I never thought I would say this," the lumberjack rumbled, "But you lack strength of will, Northwest."

"What!?"

"Hush. Lend me your ear, young one. I saw what that boy did, the one to trap me here."

"Mason?"

"Yes, the stonemason."

"No, Mason's his _name_, not his job title. And how could you have _possibly_ seen that? You were trapped in this mirror the whole time!"

"So long as I exist, I will be linked to the portraits inside Northwest Manor. I may not be able to travel to them at the moment, but I can see fine. I looked, and I saw a man with a will of _iron_. He fought off the power of the demon on his shoulder, simply to please his sister. A dream demon, no less. They specialise in possession of the body, you know. And he shucked it's influence off like a fur coat in the middle of the summer. _That_, is willpower. _That_, is what you need."

"I'm not as strong as Mason! I don't think it's even possible to be that strong for someone like me!"

The ghost chuckled, shaking his split head. "I never thought I would see the day where a Northwest would admit they were inferior. Then again, you are not like most Northwests, or you would not have become friends with the stonemason. Do you know what most of your kind would do, in this exact situation?"

"Um… Probably ignore everything you say and never open the gate?"

"Precisely. Yet, you've already got half the job done. Why not go all the way? Prove that you are different. More than your name. More than your money."

"But… The bell…"

"I never said you needed to be as strong as the stonemason. However, you must _strive_ to be. Overcoming that bell and its hold on you is the first step. After all, if the stonemason can shake off a demon, then what is a little bell going to do?"

"You know what?" Pacifica said suddenly, a newfound fire in her eyes. "You're right! It's just a stupid piece of metal! I'm gonna walk in there, open that gate, and prove to _everyone_ that I'm not some brat with more money than sense!"

"Yes, _yes!_ Feel the indignance, the _anger_ burning through you! Stoke the flames of your rage, and incinerate all who would challenge you _**to ashes!**_"

"Uh, maybe tone it back with the pyromaniac-ness."

"Oh, sorry, was that too much?"

* * *

**Yes, Mason now has the amulet and Journal 2, without much of a challenge. Honestly though, even in canon, Gideon was only really a problem because Dipper wasn't that proactive. He was always on the backfoot. Gideon's just a kid with a pig-face and too much power in his fat little fingers, which happen to be covered in so much grease he can't keep a hold of it.**

**And now, Pacifica, who has fallen in love with Mason in the span of a single chapter. Oops.**

**More stuff on the demon is coming soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

Mason wasn't sure why he woke up. He just knew that he was absolutely exhausted, and would rather go back to sleep. He turned on his side, shifting a bit to get comfortable, and sunk into the soft sheets…

Wait. His bed wasn't supposed to be this soft. Cracking his eyelids, he saw purple walls, mahogany furniture, and fancy paintings covering the walls. This _definitely_ wasn't his room. He shot into a sitting position, and very nearly fell sideways from the searing pain in his lungs. He only barely managed to stay upright by bracing his arms against the plush mattress. He couldn't, however, stifle the loud groan that slipped out.

"Mason?"

His head slowly tilted sideways, and he locked gazes with Pacifica, who was sitting in a chair next to the bed. It looked like she had been sleeping, too. She was rubbing at her neck like it hurt, which it probably did. Mason opened his mouth to say something, but only a strained croak came out. Pacifica was up in an instant, a hand on his chest to push him back. He fought, though, and even bedridden he was strong enough to resist her. Finally, she sighed, the noise a bit more fond than exasperated, and settled for moving a few pillows behind him so he could have some support. She handed him a glass of water, and he quenched the raging desert that was his throat. Panic began to crawl up his throat, undoing his efforts at breathing easier, as he began to remember the events that led him to this point.

He rolled out of the bed, onto his feet, disregarding the blood that rushed to his head, roaring in his ears. "Ghost..._May_," he grunted, staggering forward. Pacifica stood in front of him before he could too far, holding him back as best she could. He still shuffled forward a few feet, but the effort tired him out quickly, and he ended up slumping on the girl. She barely avoided having him topple on top of her by shoving him back onto the bed. He sat back up, but remained sitting this time. Pacifica grabbed his hands, hoping the gesture of comfort would calm him down. It seemed to work, marginally, because his attention was now on her.

"The ghost is gone. It… Passed on, or something, because allowed the townspeople into the manor. He wanted a Northwest to open the gates, and I did, so he left. The ghost is _gone_, Mason. Okay?"

Mason nodded unsteadily, like he was drunk. "May?" he slurred, hunching forward a bit.

"She went back home. There was no point staying here- we weren't sure when you would wake up. Mason… It's been four days."

"Four-!?" He attempted to jump up, but the blonde quickly pushed him back down.

"You lost a lot of blood. It makes sense, even if the doctors didn't find any injuries other than a few bruises."

"Gotta… Go home."

Pacifica sighed. "Well, the doctors did say that you'd be fine when you woke up, but… Can you let them check over you, one last time? Please? And then you can shower, eat, and go."

"...'Kay."

* * *

His plans changed when he'd been doused in steaming water and eaten his fair share. Swallowing the last bite of fluffier-than-clouds pancakes, he stood up, stretching his arms to the sky. Once he'd cracked every single vertebrae in his spine, he yawned mightily, straining his jaw. Half-lidded eyes turned on Pacifica, who was sitting in the seat across from his, simply watching him with her elbow on the table and her head resting on her palm.

"...'M tired."

Pacifica smiled, standing and grabbing his hand. Unconsciously, she laced their fingers together. "I'm not surprised. It's still too soon for you to be walking around like this- come on, I'll take you back to your room."

Mason just yawned, following her like an obedient puppy. He was tired enough that his eyes were shut even as he walked, relying entirely on the blonde to guide him. As a result, he smacked into no less than five walls while they navigated the labyrinth that was Northwest Manor. His grunts and grumbling made Pacifica giggle musically.

"You did that on purpose."

"I assure you, I have no clue _what_ you're talking about, Mr. Pines."

"Uh-huh. I'm watchin' you, Northwest."

"Mason, your eyes aren't even open."

"... I can see with my fingers." To prove his point, he set his free hand on Pacifica's face- after some trial and error- kneading the smooth flesh back and forth. With a final tweak of her nose, he dropped his hand, slumping from the effort. "_Paz~"_ he whined. Pacifica stopped in her tracks, face burning red at being granted a pet name so spontaneously. Mason continued on until he slammed hip-first into a random table.

"Y-yeah?" she asked, voice an octave higher.

"Tired. Wanna sleep," he muttered, rubbing his abused side.

The gears in the blonde's head began to turn, and she led Mason down another hallway, into a room. "We're here," she said, gently herding the brunet onto the bed. He flopped down carelessly, lower half hanging off the mattress. "Mason, lay down properly." He said something, muffled by the sheets. "Yes, you have to." Grudgingly, he kicked off his slippers and rotated his body so his head was face-down in the pillows, sinking into the larger-than-he-remembered stack of fluff. He was milliseconds away from falling asleep, when the weight of another person shifted the bed. He cracked an eye, and noticed that everything was a lot more… _Pink_.

"'S your room?"

"Yeah. Your room's a lot further- you probably would've passed out in the hallways," Pacifica teased, laying down next to him.

"Mm." He wrapped an arm around the girl, yanking her closer to him to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She yelped quietly in surprise, but didn't complain. "Nigh' Paz."

"Good night, Mason," she cooed, a stupid grin and a burning blush on her face.

* * *

The next time Mason awoke, he actually felt slightly human. As in, his body _finally_ registered the aches and pains that came with not moving for four days straight, on top of spitting up nearly half the blood in his body. With a groan, he flexed every muscle in his body as much as he could, too tired to even stretch properly. Upon doing a systems check, he found his arm was wrapped around something that felt vaguely human.

That vaguely-human figure shifted a bit, and poked him in the cheek. Mason groaned, slightly annoyed, and buried his face deeper into the pillow, ignoring the sudden lack of oxygen.

"May, stop," he rumbled.

"Wrong person, silly," the girl teased. Her voice was much more melodious than his sister's, and lacked the slight lisp Mabel had because of her braces (honestly, those things should've been out long ago. What was that orthodontist doing?). Lifting his head with agonizing effort, Mason opened a single eye, then closed it back. "Hey, what's with that!?"

Mason made a noise like a popped tire, and turned to lay on his back, eyeing the blonde warily. "Did we… _Do_ something, Pacifica?"

"What? What do you… _Oh_. _NO!_"

"Then why am I in your bed? And how did I even end up here?"

"You were really tired after eating earlier, and your room was too far! You would've passed out in the hall, and I would've had to leave you there because you're so heavy!"

"...You callin' me fat?"

Pacifica giggled despite her indignance. "Of course not- I've _seen _your abs," she purred, resting a hand on his rock-hard midsection. Mason flushed, swatting her hand away, and Pacifica felt marginally vindicated. It wasn't enough, though, so she shuffled closer, draping her legs over his substantially-longer ones. She slithered close, her warm breath tickling his face, whispering, "Although, I wouldn't mind if we _did_ do something…"

Mason's face was on fire, redder than a tomato, but he wasn't one to accept defeat so easily. It wasn't quite a fight, but it was close enough for him to muster up his indomitable willpower. Fast as lightning, he rolled over the blonde, pinning her hands next to her head, his knees on either side of her supple thighs. He leaned close, brushing his lips against her ears.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I had my way with you right now?"

"Uh, M-Mason…?" She made a meager attempt at flailing, but he tightened his grip on her wrists.

"That isn't a _no._"

"I… I mean… _Um_…"

He began to trail his lips down the side of her face, skimming her round cheeks, leaving butterfly kisses on her jawline, pressing his mouth to the milky skin in the crook of her neck, and…

Blowing the biggest raspberry he possibly could.

"_MASON!"_ Pacifica shrieked. The teen in question flopped onto the mattress beside her, curled in a ball as his laughter tore into his lungs. At some point, he stopped making noises, and just lay there, looking like an idiot with his face morphed into grotesque amusement. Pacifica grumbled irritatedly, rubbing at her slightly wet skin, and decided revenge was in order. She leaped on Mason, wrapping an arm around him from behind and pressing her mouth against the nape of his neck, repeating his childish actions. However, his reaction was a _tad_ more violent. Mason yelped and threw his head back, slamming straight into Pacifica's forehead.

"Ow!"

"Oh- _shit!_ Sorry!" In a flurry of movement and shifted blankets, Mason had the girl in his lap, closely examining the red spot on her forehead. A hand tilted her chin up while the other brushed her bangs out the way. "Oh my god, Pacifica, I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to-!"

"It's fine. Idiot," Pacifica murmured, the slight upward tilt at the corners of her mouth indicating that she wasn't really mad. Just a bit disgruntled, at worst. "Didn't expect you to have such a hard head, though."

"Ha ha, very funny," Mason muttered, running a thumb over the area of impact. "God, hope that doesn't bruise. I don't feel like getting sued today, thanks."

"I'm not gonna sue you, silly," Pacifica said, pulling his hands down from her face, allowing their foreheads to come together. "If anything, I'll just get a restraining order."

The teens chuckled, and basked in the presence of the other for a few moments. Pacifica finally opened her eyes, and saw Mason was already staring at her intensely, chocolate brown on sapphire blue.

"Paz, I-"

She pressed a finger against his lips. "Shh. You don't have to say anything, baby." She leaned up, and he leaned down, two pairs of eyes slowly sliding shut in anticipation. Their foreheads rubbed together, noses brushed against the other, and then…

The door opened. "Mm, yes. Very good, miss."

The two shot apart like rockets, Mason tumbling off the bed altogether, though not before he caught a glimpse of the butler at the door.

"_JEEVES!"_

* * *

Mason was nearly bowled over when he walked into the Mystery Shack, his super-strength useless in the face of a rampaging Corduroy. Well, if _very_ _worried_ meant rampaging.

"Mason!?" Wendy cried, hopping over the check-out counter to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He was a bit slow in returning the gesture, surprised that the cool-as-a-cucumber redhead was being so overt in her concern.

"Uh, hi?"

She drew back and punched him in the shoulder, making him wince. "Dude, it's literally been a week! How're you feelin'?"

"Like a trainwreck. Where's Mabel? Plus, it's only been five days, not seven."

"_Only_ five days, like that's not an entire work week... Mabel's upstairs, with Candy and Grenda. They've been sleeping over for the past few days, for emotional support. She's… Been really bad, dude. I think you go see her, like, _now_. And _try_ not to end up like that again, please? For my sake, at least?"

Mason smiled half-heartedly. "Whatever you say, Wendy." He turned to the still-open door. "C'mon, Paz. May's upstairs." The redhead got the shock of her life when the blonde sauntered into the place like she owned it.

"Don't worry, I heard. Hey, Miss Lumberjack," she said dismissively, passing by the two to walk up the stairs. Mason rolled his eyes.

"Ignore her. She's been in a pretty bad mood since…"

"Since?" Wendy asked, curious about the sudden hesitance to continue. She was _not_ expecting Mason to blush, and scratch at his cheek absentmindedly.

"Since this morning. Must've… Woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or somethin'." Mason failed to mention that he'd woken up in the wrong bed altogether. "How are _you_, though? That ghost was pretty strong- I doubt any of us made it out completely unscathed."

Wendy was skeptical about his avoidance, but didn't push. She had tact, unlike the rest of her family. "I was fine, for the most part. I mean, my dress got a bit messed up, and I skinned my knee pretty bad, but other than that? Like, papercuts. Nothin' compared to _you_ though, dude. What the heck was up with _that?_"

Mason ruffled his hair, stressed just from thinking about it. "Ah, I still don't really know. I plan on finding out, though- today. You down?"

"Psh-_yeah,_ dude! How the heck are you gonna do it, though?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by various thumping and shouting from upstairs. The two watched in bemusement as Mabel, Candy, and Grenda tumbled down the stairs, dragging an exasperated Pacifica with them. The former three literally threw themselves on Mason, Mabel leading the charge, burying him in a dogpile. Mabel and Candy, he could handle, but Grenda wasn't exactly _small._ Still, he managed to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs, with a bit of help from Wendy. His sister still clung to him, nuzzling her head against his chest, feet dragging on the floor when he moved.

Mason wrapped his arms around the girl, content to let her be. He didn't get _nearly_ enough Mabel-hugs for his liking. Although, he was a bit surprised she wasn't wailing at a mile a minute-

"_DipperohmygoshIthoughtyouweredeadandIwassoscared-"_

There it was. Mason just wrapped his arms tighter around his twin, resting his chin on top of her head and petting her brown locks. "It's fine, May. I'm all patched up. Turns out the Northwests have some pretty good doctors," he teased, flashing a sly grin at Pacifica. The girl flipped her hair.

"Of course we do. What, did you expect us to have nothing more than a few nurses on hand?" she asked haughtily, though her slight smirk made it clear she was more than amused.

"Nah, but considering how traditional your parents are, a few plague doctors wouldn't have been remiss."

Pacifica shrugged. "Well, they tried having the doctors dress up like that before, but the masks kept getting in the way. Those beaks are _really_ long."

"...I'm more surprised than I should be."

"Get used to it, Pines- we Northwests don't do anything by halves."

"Nothing? So, since you helped exorcise a ghost, are you down to help with more supernatural crap?"

"You know it."

"Cool, 'cause I'm gonna go summon a demon as soon as May lets go of me."

"...On second thought, maybe not."

"Nope. You're in it for the long haul now. Buckle up, fuckboys- it's about to get _spooky_."

* * *

Later that night, in the parking lot of the Mystery Shack, the teens (minus Candy and Grenda, who had to finally go home after nearly a week of being at the Mystery Shack) stood in front of a white chalk pentagram on the asphalt. At each of the five points were the items Mason had spent the week between Pioneer Day and the Northwest Manor Ball collecting; a jar of percepshroom jelly, a single mermaid scale, a waxy heart scavenged from the wax figures before they were disposed of, a little pouch of fairy dust, and finally, a dead squirrel. Pacifica and Mabel shuddered, while Wendy only turned slightly green.

"Was the rodent necessary?" Pacifica asked, her training in keeping her composure allowing her to not fixate on the sight like Mabel.

"Yes," he said, tone clipped, eyes focused on the book in his hands. His pupils were glowing from the Sight Spell, allowing him to skim the pages with ease in the dark. "Placement doesn't matter, they just have to be at the tips of the pentagram, with the jar of floating eyeballs in the center of the triangle inside the pentagram. The symbols match up… Let's get started."

"Wait, Mason, have you even tested this yet?" Wendy asked, nervously glancing at the summoning circle.

"Nope. Says here that if I mess this up, I'll still call the demon into the mortal plane, but it'll just possess my body, destroying my mind in the process, and wreak havoc on Earth for the rest of eternity. But yolo, right? Er, however that goes. Let's get started. You girls _might_ wanna take a step back." Mason inhaled deeply, to quell his jittery nerves, then began speaking, his magic automatically being channelled into the words.

"_**Et dabo carnes.**_"

The dead squirrel began to levitate, hovering in the air, bobbing slightly like a fishing lure on the surface of a lake.

"_**Et ego dabo vobis figura.**_"

The mermaid scale floated over to the squirrel. In a horrifying display of breaking bones and tearing flesh, the squirrely contorted itself around the scale, transforming into a brown, furry triangle.

"_**Et dabo tibi animam.**_"

The waxy heart rose from the ground, coming over to sink into the center of the disfigured squirrel, phasing through the flesh like a ghost. When it was completely absorbed, a single eye opened in the center of the shape, pupil black, unseeing, as if the abomination were brain dead. Alive, but incapable of living. Tiny black limbs sprouted from the creature. One arm from each side, complete with five fingers, and two legs from the bottom, simply hanging there.

"_**Et ego dabo vobis cerebri.**_"

The cap on the jar of percepshroom jelly screwed off, the contents exiting in a steady stream of purple. The substance completely coated the creature. It ate away at the hair, leaving it completely bald and pink, before sinking in, vanishing without a trace. Suddenly, the creature's stubby limbs began to twitch, skin pulsating, single eye blinking, pupil gaining light. It began looking around, eyeing the girls. When its gaze landed on Mason, it began to panic, flailing wild, tears flowing from its eye. He almost stuttered, but pushed on, ignoring the wails of the girls, begging him to stop.

"_**Et dabo somnum.**_"

The string tying the pouch of fairy dust came loose, and the substance streamed out, splashing onto the creature. It closed its eyes immediately, falling into a deep, deep sleep. Its limbs still spasmed occasionally, like it was having a nightmare. Now came the last part.

"_**Venite daemonium somnia, hoc corpore. Audi vocem meam, et accipere hoc munus, Will Cipher!**_"

For a moment, the sleeping creature disappeared, swirling away in a single point before vanishing completely, as if it were sucked into a wormhole. Then, it reappeared- but it looked different. It was no longer made of pink flesh. Rather, it was now made of some glowing, neon blue material, that looked solid to the touch, and was portioned into rectangular bricks below its eye. The limbs were the same, the legs still dangling in the air, but the hands were clasped tightly around a black cane, nearly obscuring the black bowtie attached to the being's center. The eye now had three lashes on each lid, and a brow above. On top of its head was a very simple top hat, completing the dapper image.

As odd as the triangle looked, there was something even weirder about it; it seemed completely two-dimensional. While it twisted and turned to survey its new surroundings, Mason saw a complete lack of a side. There was only front and back, and it was starting to give him a headache.

"Uh, hey!" he called, grabbing the being's attention. "Are you the dream demon, Will Cipher?"

The being turned to him, tears in the corners of its single eye, much to Mason's alarm. "Y-yeah… Although, t-that's not my real name, but... I can't tell you it, because you meatbags are really fragile. It'd m-make you evaporate with an expression of horror and ecstasy on your f-face. So… Hi?"

* * *

**Yeet.**


	9. Chapter 9

"So… Hi?" Will said hesitantly, waving at them with his two-dimensional hand. He squinted his single eye at Mason, and it widened in recognition moments later. "Hey, you're the one that-!" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a wince. "R-right… Not sup-pposed to talk about that…"

"Talk about what?" Mason asked, more than a little concerned.

"I… Can't say. He'll h-hurt me, if I do…" Will stammered, tears leaking from his eye at an increased pace. He flinched again, holding his arms in front of him for protection. "I-I promise I won't say anything! I s-swear!"

"Hey, it's alright, Will," Mason said soothingly, holding his palms out to portray himself as harmless. "We're not gonna hurt ya."

"N-not _you_. _Him._" The triangle pointed at the empty air above Mason's shoulder, thoroughly confusing the four teens.

"Will… There's nothing there," Mason said cautiously.

"You m-meatbags can't s-see him," Will forced out, shaking so bad he could hardly speak. "But _I_ can. He's s-so _angry…_" The triangle broke out into sobs, somehow producing three-dimensional tears. Of course, Mabel was the one to skip up to the demon, and wrap him in a fluffy hug. Mason was only a _tiny _bit jealous.

"Aw, there, there, Mr. Cool Ranch Dorito. Everything's _fine_. That big bad dummy won't hurt you. Dipper, can we keep him?"

"I mean… That was the plan. Although, I was hoping he'd able to tell me what was going on with me."

Something suddenly clicked in Pacifica's head. "Wait, Mason, I just remembered. That lumberjack ghost told me there was a dream demon hanging over your shoulder."

"And you only _now_ told me?"

"Hey, it's been like a week, alright? It slipped! Anyways, isn't this guy also a dream demon? Shouldn't he be able to help you get rid of the one that's influencing you?"

"_NO!"_ Will shrieked, burying his face into Mabel's shoulder. "I c-can't f-f-f-fight against _him!"_ the demon wailed, trembling. Mason exchanged wary glances with Wendy and Pacifica, his sister too busy comforting Will.

"Well, if you're a dream demon, can you at least tell _us_ how to fight other dream demons?" Mason asked.

Will shook his head, only the top half of his body following through with the motion. "Y-you can't. Not him. M-Maybe if it was- Okay! Okay! I w-w-won't talk about it!" Will clammed up, curling into a ball as best he could with his stubby arms covering his top hat, and Mason knew they wouldn't get anything useful out of him for a while.

"Well, this has been an interesting- and very concerning- day," Mason said. "Summoned a dream demon, found out there's another messing with my head... I'm goin' to sleep."

"_Yeah_, I'm with ya on that one," Wendy said, shaking her head at the absurdity of the last hour. "Later, bros," she said, waving to the twins, and walking down the road away from the Mystery Shack.

"What about you, Paz?" Mason asked.

"Um… Well, I don't really wanna go back home right now. My dad still hasn't yelled at me for letting the townspeople into the party. He was too scared just from you being in the same building, but now that you're gone…" Mason winced. He knew about displeased parents. He just hoped Pacifica's weren't as bad as his and Mabel's.

"That's cool. We don't exactly have as much space, but you can sleep over if you want."

"Can I!?" Pacifca asked, suddenly very excited. She cleared her throat, embarrassed at her outburst. "I mean, if you're sure."

Mason chuckled. "I'm sure. Although, you'll have to borrow some of Mabel's clothes. You two are around the same height, I think…?" He glanced between the girls, gauging their stature. "Yeah, it should work."

Mabel who was walking over, could hardly contain her excitement. Only the fact that she had a crying dream demon in her hands kept her from going overboard. "Oh my god, sleepover!? Pacifica, we're going to have so much fun! We'll paint each others nails, talk about boys, look at magazines of boys, talk about boys-!"

Pacifica held her hand up. "Sorry, Mabel. I'd love to do that, but frankly, I'm _exhausted_. Apparently, watching someone summon a demon just drains your energy."

"N-no," Will muttered, startling the trio. "T-that's my fault. I started d-drawing from the m-mana reserves of you guys, since his," he pointed a shaky hand at Mason, "Weren't q-quite enough. Otherwise, he would've d-died…"

And on that somber note, the teens went inside to clean up and get ready for bed.

* * *

"Uh, Pacifica, wrong bed," Mabel said, watching the blonde walk in, take one look at the side covered with boy band posters, and immediately move as far away as she possibly could.

"What do you mean? Isn't this Mason's?"

"Ye- _wait a minute. _Are you putting the _moves_ on my brother!?" Mabel squealed, bouncing up and down on her mattress. "And is that his shirt!?" she asked, noticing how it simply _draped_ over Pacifica.

"Well, your shirt was a little… _Tight_." She gestured to her chest, which had to be at least two cup sizes bigger than the brunette's. Mabel didn't mind, though. She was far too caught up in how romantic it was. Suddenly, an errant thought made her deflate.

"Pacifica, I can't condone this. I already promised my support to someone else." The blonde just shrugged.

"And? It's up to Mason, isn't it?"

Mabel was going to argue that point when the man himself walked in, completely bare-chested, muscles on full display. Will hung over his left shoulder, occasionally sending fearful glances towards Mason's right shoulder. When they walked in, Mason gently pushed the dream demon towards Mabel. He didn't need any encouragement, and zoomed over to the girl, burying himself in her open arms. He sobbed a bit, but didn't completely break down, so the teens considered it an improvement from earlier. Mason went to his bed, flopping down on the side closest to the wall, hands folded behind his head. Pacifica sat on the edge, staring at him.

"What?" he asked, noticing her persistent gaze. "Got a problem?"

"_Yeah_," Pacifica replied hotly, leaning closer. "You're wearing _way_ too much clothes for my liking." Mason blushed, tugging his blanket over him to preserve his dignity.

"P-_Paz!"_

Mabel began choking on air, coughing harshly. Will started hammering her back, concerned. "Alright!" she cried, "You're coming over here right this instant, young lady! Step away from the baby brother!"

"N-no, it's fine," Mason said, though his red face said otherwise. "But Pacifica, I swear to god, if I'm not wearing pants when I wake up, I'm filing a restraining order."

"Buzzkill…" the blonde muttered, shuffling under the covers with him. Will floated over to shut the lights off, and the teens fell into a deep sleep. Well, Mason and Pacifica did, wrapped in each others warm embrace, ignoring the fact that it was midsummer and they should've been boiling under that sheet. Mabel was still too busy agonizing over the complete obliteration of Wendy's chances. Being a love guru is tough business, yo!

* * *

Come morning, Mabel had gotten barely any sleep. She rolled out of bed looking half-dead, and completed her morning business with the speed of a zombie.

"May, are you alright?" Mason asked, tugging on a new t-shirt. Pacifia was still lying on his bed, opting to absorb his lingering body heat and watch him move around the attic quietly.

"Peachy!" the girl responded through the open bathroom door, then immediately started trying to brush her teeth with the tube of toothpaste instead of its contents.

"Mabel, that's not your toothbrush." The brunette glanced down at the plastic that was grinding against her braces, and hummed contemplatively. After staring at the white tube for a good, long moment, she continued on, as if Mason had never said anything. He exchanged a look with Pacifica, a tiny grin of fond amusement curling on his lips. He dropped heavily on the edge of his bed, causing the mattress to bounce and send the blonde girl flying.

"_Mason!"_ she shrieked, slapping him on the shoulder once she got her wits about her. He just chuckled, leaning back to rest his head in her lap. She sat up, and began fiddling with his bedhead.

"Paz, what are we doing?" he asked, smile fading into something more serious.

"_I_ am braiding this crow's nest, and _you_ are letting me?"

"Not that- and don't you _dare_ tie a knot in my hair! Last time Mabel tried to braid it, she did, and I had cut the whole thing out with scissors."

"You have nothing to worry about, hon. I'm actually pretty good at doing hair- like I am at everything else," she said, her snooty side coming out for a moment.

"Uh-huh. That's why you had to call me to help with your little ghost probl- ow! Don't yank on my head!"

"Well, of course I'm gonna call you! You're probably the only nerd in Gravity Falls I know of that handles weird stuff like this on a daily basis- you're in the newspaper! That's how my dad found out about you, by the way. He saw the article of you tazing a giant vampire bat, and somehow jumped to the conclusion that you can handle stupid lumberjack ghosts."

"That's…. Cool? Anyways, we're getting sidetracked! I wanted to ask… Where do we stand? Like, our relationship?" Just saying the word made his face heat up, and he turned his face to the side, unable to look Pacifica in the eyes. The girl tilted her head in thought.

"Well, I'd _say_ friends, but friends don't share your bed, undress you with their eyes, and try to kiss you only to be interrupted by a long-past retirement age butler, so… I guess I'm in love with you."

He shot up like a bullet, twisting to look her in the eye on a level playing field, face slack in shock. "You-! You're... A-are you sure? It's not, like, just a passing crush? Maybe- maybe a simple physical attraction? I've heard that really rich people have problems finding actual friends because everyone only sees them for their money, so are you sure you aren't mistaking the first real friendship you've made for something else? You're probably just confused-!"

He was silenced by Pacifica leaning over and pressing her lips against his. It took a hot second for his brain to reboot, but by then, the blonde had pulled away, and was smirking at him victoriously.

"If I was confused, then I wouldn't have enjoyed doing that _nearly_ as much as I did." Mason raised a shaky hand, pressing his fingertips to his mouth.

"You… K… _Kiss?_" His face rapidly turned redder than a tomato, and with a rattling breath, he fell back onto the floor in a dead faint. Mabel, who had just finished her shower, chose that moment to walk outside the bathroom, right in time to see her brother's head bounce against the floorboard.

"...What'd I miss?"

* * *

After giving up on moving her brother into his bed, and leaving him to his fate of scoliosis at the tender age of twenty, Mabel led Pacifica to the backyard of the Mystery Shack, where Stan had set up a few lawn chairs and a folding table. Mabel sat down in one, then gestured to the chair across from her.

"Sit," she commanded, uncharacteristically serious with her grave tone and completely still hands. She stared Pacifica straight in the eye the entire time, chocolate brown betraying no emotion.

Pacifica obeyed, imperiously lowering herself into the seat, back straight, legs crossed, and hands folded in her lap. She'd automatically reverted to her blueblood mannerisms due to sheer nerves.

"Do you understand what you've done?" Mabel asked, eyebrows slowly narrowing into a glare. Despite her slight lisp, her words were perfectly enunciated, delivered to maximum effect and cutting deeply into Pacifica's psyche. Unconsciously, she began reviewing every wrong thing she'd ever done in her life, like a child being scolded by a parent, before realizing that wasn't what Mabel meant.

"I… Kissed Mason?" she ventured hesitantly.

"You stole his first kiss."

"Wh- First!?"

Mabel nodded solemnly. "His first. He's never been one for relationships, or people in general. He's always been too busy protecting me, so I could have those things." Mabel heaved a drawn-out sigh. "In fifteen years, Mason's only had a single girlfriend, sometime around the end of freshman year. They lasted for a week. Do you want to know why it ended?"

Pacifica was almost scared to reply affirmatively, but she was curious. Hopefully, curiosity wouldn't kill _this_ cat.

"W...Why?"

"He came across her bullying me one day. And do you want to know what he did to her?"

Pacifica swallowed heavily. "He… Broke up with her and publicly embarrassed her?" she asked optimistically.

"He slapped her across the face so hard she walked around with a red mark on her cheek for the next week. He got suspended for a month, only managed to avoid getting kicked out the boxing club by literally begging on his hands and knees, and didn't sleep for three straight days afterwards trying to catch up in all his classes. He told me a few days later that he expected the punishment to be harsher. Do you understand what that means? He ended the only relationship he's ever had for me! He was willing to risk _expulsion_ for me! He's sacrificed _everything_ for me, and if you think I won't do the same, you've got another goddamned thing coming! If you _ever_ hurt him, I will beat your ass so badly, you won't even be able to look at a _pine tree_ without remembering it!" Mabel was screaming by this point, standing up so fast she knocked her chair away, and slamming her fist on the table.

Pacifica could hardly even comprehend the change in personality. It made sense, sure, but she had never expected Mabel to be capable of even _half_ this much intensity. The atmosphere was ruined when Stan piped up from the back door, where he'd been watching.

"Yeah, you tell that brat, baby!" he cheered, waving a fist in the air. The two girls looked at him, Mabel seeming more than a little displeased. "...Did I interrupt? Oops, sorry. Anyways, just wanted to ask what you kids wanted for breakfast. Eggs good?"

"Yeah, but I'll take care of it. I don't really wanna crunch on the shells," Mabel said, smiling a bit.

"Aw, c'mon, it was _one_ time!"

"It was also the _only_ time, and for good reason. You can handle the bacon and toast, though."

"Yeah, yeah. Jeez, kids these days... Well, come inside so we can get started. By the way, why's your brother passed out on the floor upstairs?"


	10. Chapter 10

"There she is, kids; the cheapest fair money can rent!" Stan proclaimed, spreading his arms wide. "I spared _every_ expense."

Mason stared out at the rusty, shoddy, falling apart fair that had gone up in less than two days. "This is a lawsuit waiting to happen," he muttered in mute horror.

"That's where _you_ come in!" Stan said. He handed Mason, Mabel, and Wendy a stack of papers with a blue letter A on them. "I printed up a bunch of fake safety inspection certificates, so you kids go slap 'em up on anything that looks like it might in thbreak e next few hours.

"Grunkle Stan, is that legal?" Mabel asked, sounding very concerned. Mason nudged her with his elbow.

"When does Grunkle Stan do _anything_ by the books?"

"Hey! I, uh… Drive with a valid driver's license!"

"Stan, that thing has a picture from when you were, like, forty- it's outdated as hell."

"Well, at least I still have it! Just, get on it, ya little ingrates! Soos, how's that dunk tank going?" Stan left the teens behind to talk with the handyman. Mason shrugged.

"May as well," he muttered, and wandered off to find something to 'certify.' That tram was looking a little wobbly...

* * *

An hour later, after slapping a poster on pretty much all the rides, Mason met up with Wendy. Mabel was… Somewhere. Just the thought of her being on her own in this rickety excuse for an amusement park was making him twitch.

"You good, dude?" Wendy asked after a particularly violent spasm. Mason rubbed his arm uncomfortably.

"Yeah, just… I don't really know if I want Mabel to be here. This place is crazy dangerous, and if something happens…"

Wendy slugged him in the shoulder. "Relax, bro. She'll be _fine_. Stan may be cheap, but he at least won't let anyone _die_ or anything. Right?"

Mason tilted his head in consideration. "I guess not," he said sullenly.

Wendy perked up. "Hey, how about _we_ walk around the fair? You know, try to dunk Stan, play a few of the rigged carnival games, maybe hit up the ferris wheel?"

Mason glanced at the massive ride. It was rusty, and the mechanism was slightly damaged, causing the wheel to jolt every now and then, the bolts getting caught. "Maybe not that last part," he said, shuddering.

Wendy followed his gaze and winced. "Yeah, that's a no to the ferris wheel. We'll figure somethin' out."

* * *

Mason actually had a surprising amount of fun. Wendy had just completely failed one of those bottle-throwing booths, her ball bouncing right off the stack of empty milk bottles. Her indignance was hilarious, and when Mason laughed, she challenged him, a smirk on her face at the thought of him humiliating himself as well. Neither she nor the booth vendor were prepared for him to fling the ball so hard it shattered the bottles, and tunneled through the back of the stand. Mason took the offered purple duck/panda hybrid from the dumbfounded vendor, and presented it to the redhead.

"Your prize, milady," he said with exaggerated pomp, bowing low. Wendy giggled nervously, a light blush dusting across her freckles.

"Um… Thanks, dude. Heh." He straightened up, and she shyly met his eyes, hugging the plush animal to her chest. "Hey, Mason… I was wondering if-" She was cut off when a bald, round man wearing a grey jumpsuit barreled past, slamming his shoulder into Wendy, nearly toppling her over. He continued running without a word of apology, leaving the teens to stare after him in confusion. Wendy opened her mouth to finish her sentence, interruptions be damned, but something else caught their attention.

"Wendy!" The two turned and saw Robbie jogging up to them, a purple snow cone in his hand. The goth spared a glare for Mason, before putting all his attention on Wendy. "Hey, Wendy, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now… We've been spendin' a lotta time together, and I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go out with me?"

Wendy's eyes went wide, and she glanced between the two males. "Uh, Robbie, I- uh-" She seemed panicked, and Mason smirked. She must've been embarrassed that it happened so suddenly, and with an audience, no less. He knew when to take a hint.

"I'll just leave you _lovebirds_ alone," he heckled, taking a few steps back. "I'm gonna go find Mabel. Talk later, Wendy!" With that, he ran off in search of his twin.

When Mason turned a corner, Wendy rounded on Robbie, who was wringing his hands together, nervous about her response. "Robbie, what the _hell,_ dude!?"

"Wh-what?"

"I was just about to ask _Mason_ out, and then _you _pop up, and oh god now he probably thinks _we're_ dating-!"

"Wait, you were gonna ask _Pines_ out!? You have a crush on him!?" Robbie yelled, hands flailing so wildly that he threw his snow cone off to the side.

"Dude, everybody knows I have a crush on Mason! Except you, apparently!"

"Wha-?"

"Oh man, this is a _disaster!"_ Wendy moaned. "Now I gotta go clear things up with him, and- it's that fat dude's fault!"

"Uh, fat dude?"

"Nothing. Just… Go somewhere, Robbie. I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now." When he finally sulked off, after many half-hearted excuses and pleas, Wendy rushed off in the direction she'd last seen the man moving. If he hadn't done that, she would've been able to finish her sentence long before Robbie appeared!

* * *

"Your prize, milady," he said with exaggerated pomp, bowing low. Wendy giggled nervously, a light blush dusting across her freckles.

"Thanks, dude." He straightened up, and she shyly met his eyes, hugging the plush animal to her chest. "Hey, Mason, I was wondering if-?" Wendy glanced back, and sidestepped the fat man who dashed past. Mason stared after the man in shock- how did she know he was there? She started speaking again, and he reigned in his lingering thoughts, writing it off. She must've heard his footsteps.

"I was wondering if-"

"Wendy!"

Wendy's face twitched. She turned to the newcomer, and heaved a great sigh. "What do you want, Robbie?" she asked harshly, causing both males to step back in surprise at her acidic tone.

"Uh, well, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now… We've been spendin' a lotta time together, and I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go out with me?"

She opened her mouth to reject him, but Mason beat her to it. "I'll just leave you _lovebirds_ alone," he heckled, taking a few steps back. "I'm gonna go find Mabel. Talk later, Wendy!" With that, he ran off in search of his twin. She reached out a hand, useless considering he was far past her reach by now. The redhead growled, and brushed past Robbie, walking to a secluded area.

"Third time's the charm," she muttered, leaving behind a blinking goth.

"Uh… What?"

* * *

"Is that thing a duck or a panda?" Mason asked, staring at the prize on the top shelf of the booth.

"I dunno, but I want it," Wendy said dryly. She paid a dollar, grabbed a ball, and slammed it as hard as she could into the stack of bottles. Only the top one fell. "What!? That's totally rigged!"

Mason chuckled. "Lemme give it a shot." He tugged a bill from his pocket, traded it for a baseball, and wound back. Wendy bit her lip, and hesitantly opened her mouth.

"Hey, ya might wanna tone it back, dude. Don't wanna break something, right?"

The brunet tilted his head in consideration, before nodding. "Right. Stan might try to sue me or something," he chuckled. He once more lined up the shot, but didn't pull his arm back quite as far. The ball still shattered the glass bottles, but this time, it merely bounced off the wooden wall in the back- and ricocheted right into Mason's right eye.

"Shit!" he cried, staggering back a few steps, hands flying up to cover his face. "_Ow!_"

"Dude, are you okay!?" Wendy cried, panicked.

"Ah, m-maybe?" He stopped cradling his skull. "Is it swollen?" Wendy absent-mindedly grabbed his wrists, preventing them from going back to cover up the shiner. She leaned in close, examining the darkened eyelid.

"Not swollen, but it's bruised pretty bad."

Mason sighed, his hot breath washing over Wendy's face, and she finally realized how close they were. She took a quick step back. "Um, w-wait here! I'm gonna go get you some ice!" she cried, turning and sprinting off. She ran all the way back to the porch of the Mystery Shack, where a cooler was located. Reaching in, she yanked out a bag of ice, then immediately booked it back to Mason- who was chatting with Robbie, and holding a purple snow cone to his eye. The two saw her approaching, and stopped talking.

"Here!" Wendy nearly yelled, thrusting the bag into his free hand. Mason turned back to Robbie.

"Hey, you didn't start eating this thing, right?"  
"Nah. You can have it if you want," Robbie said carelessly.

"Awesome. Well, I just remembered I have a… _Thing_, to do, so I'll just be going now." He shot a not-very-discreet thumbs up at Robbie, who merely nodded. Wendy narrowed her eyes.

"Hey, so, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now… We've been spendin' a lotta time together, and I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go out with me?" Robbie asked, and Wendy nearly began clawing at her ears. It was like hearing a broken record!

"_No,_" she said emphatically, turning and walking off.

* * *

With a frustrated growl, Wendy flung the ball at the pyramid of milk bottles. However, her irritation made her aim sloppy, and the ball ended up slamming into the edge of the table the bottles sat on, bouncing back and hitting Mason in the right eye.

"Shit!" he cried, staggering back a few steps. "_Ow!"_

"Oh god, not again," Wendy muttered. Thankfully, Mason was too preoccupied by the throbbing pain to pay much attention. "Are you okay, dude?" she asked louder, taking a step forward.

"Ah, m-maybe?" He stopped cradling his skull. "Is it swollen?" Wendy got close, consciously grabbing his wrists and leaning close to his face.

"Yeah, a real shiner. Want me to kiss it and make it better?" she asked huskily. Mason frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. His single open eye flashed scarlet for a moment, too quickly for Wendy to determine if it was some freaky thing, or if it was just a trick of the light.

"Weird. Has this… Happened before?" he asked uncertainly.

"I think I'd remember accidentally pegging my friend in the face with a baseball," Wendy replied dryly.

"Mason shook his head, clearing the haze. "R-right… Must just be deja vu, or something…" he murmured. "Anyways, uh, I need ice."

"Oh, right!" Wendy cried, remembering the situation. "Duh! C'mon, there's a cooler on the Shack's porch." She grabbed his left hand, tugging him along. His right was busy covering his bruised eye, leaving his steps unsteady as his depth perception vanished. It took a few minutes, but they finally made it to the Mystery Shack. Wendy jogged up the steps, flinging open the cooler and grabbing a bag of ice. Just as she turned to offer it to Mason, a black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the Shack, and Pacifica Northwest stepped out. She waved enthusiastically at Mason, and half-heartedly at Wendy. The redhead huffed in annoyance at the unexpected interruption, while Mason just grinned a bit.

Pacifica finally noticed that the brunet was clutching his face, and could see the darkened skin peeking between his fingers, and bolted up to him in seconds. She pried his hand away from his face. "Mason, what happened to you!?" she screeched.

Mason winced at the volume, but kept a small smirk on his face. "It's nothin', Paz. Just a little run in with a baseball. Who knew that Wendy had such a crazy pitch?" he joked.

Pacifica glared at Wendy, and snatched the ice bag out of her hands before the female lumberjack could react. She grabbed Mason's wrist, and yanked him inside the building, shoving him down on the recliner, then plopping down sideways in his lap. The blonde held the ice up to his eye gently, waiting for him to acclimate to the sudden chill before pressing it against his bruise. He breathed in relief, slumping backwards a bit. Pacifica began cooing at him, making him chuckle. Wendy, who had followed behind them, disoriented from the sudden turn of events, frowned at the scene.

"Comfortable?" she asked sharply, crossing her arms and glaring pointedly at Pacifica.

Mason shrugged, both eyes now closed. "My brain's feeling a little rattled, but I'll survive," he said nonchalantly.

Pacifica, however, met Wendy's stare. "_Perfectly_," she replied primly, voice dripping with so much venom it was almost tangible. Even Mason picked up on it, because he slid his good eye open. When he noticed the stare-down that was happening between the girls, though, he decided he was better off not intervening. Wendy growled gutturally, then stormed out the front door. Mason exchanged a glance with Pacifica.

"What was that about?" he asked. The blonde shrugged, then leaned up and captured his lips with her own, silencing any further questions.

* * *

The world tilted on its axis, and Mason staggered, nearly falling over. He rested his hands on his knees, gasping, suddenly desperate for oxygen. Someone was yelling, but he couldn't make out the words through the ringing in his ears. He was staring at the ground, blinked, and was staring at the sky. There was something pointy digging into his back, but he was more concerned with the fact that everything was tinged _red_.

The sun, the clouds, the trees, the hair of the person looming over him… Wait, that was just Wendy. She was saying… _Something_. Her lips were moving frantically, but everything just blurred together. She started shaking his shoulders, tears forming in her eyes. Suddenly, like a rubber band, everything snapped back into focus, and Mason lurched upright.

"Wendy, what did you _do!?"_

* * *

Wendy didn't know what to do when Mason collapsed. He had just pointed out the bottle-throw stand, for the fifth time, when he stopped mid-sentence and keeled over. His breathing was ragged, like he ran a marathon behind her back, and his head lolled around aimlessly. Scarlet electricity flowed around his prone body, sparking dangerously. His eyes, sclera and all, turned the same bright color. His teeth sharpened, ears and nails lengthened. Normally, this would be accompanied by a fierce scowl, and an attempt to pummel whatever had pissed him off, but this time, Mason just looked scared.

Finally, he bolted up into a sitting position, nearly smashing his forehead against Wendy's. She had to throw herself backwards to avoid brain damage, landing on her ass. His eyes snapped to her, and he bellowed, "Wendy, what did you _do!?_"

His demonic features faded, and he leapt to his feet, not swaying even the tiniest bit.

"Um, what?" Wendy asked nervously, slowly righting herself.

"You- you did _something_. I've lived this day before, but every time, it ends differently, before I'm right back at this moment, and all the changes start with _you_ acting differently. _What did you do."_ He stalked up to her, grabbing her shoulders in a crushing grip, forcing her to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

"I- I don't-!"

"_Wendy."_

"Time travel!" she finally admitted. "There was this fat dude, and he had a tape measure that brought you back in time, so I kinda… Borrowed it?"

"Borrowed it?" Mason growled accusingly.

"Alright, I mighta stole it, but it was his fault anyways! He's the one that nearly knocked me over when I was gonna ask you out, so he owed me!"

Mason reared back. "Ask me out?"  
Wendy froze. Mason stared at her. For a moment, they simply sat there in silence, until Wendy opened her mouth with a wordless shriek. She donkey-kicked Mason in the stomach, winding him, then dug through her pockets with an unmatched ferocity. With a triumphant cry, she pulled out the time travel device, and yanked on the tab. Mason had recovered, by then, and his hand latched onto her wrist. Panicked, her arm spasmed, and the tape measure ended up unwinding far more than she intended. The teens only had time to glance at each other, fear in their eyes, before they vanished in a glowing blue light.

* * *

They landed on a dirt path. Glancing around, Mason saw absolutely none of the structures that had surrounded them mere moments ago. He slowly crawled to his feet, dusting his shorts and vest jacket off. Wendy, who was still on the ground, groaned. He helped her up, then snatched the tape measure from her hand, shoving it in his jacket pocket.

"Dude!" she cried, feebly reaching for it. He stopped her wrist with an iron grip, then cowed her with a fierce glare.

"You got us into this mess, and I don't trust you to get us out of it."

Wendy winced. "Look man, I'm sorry! I had no clue this was gonna happen, and if you didn't grab me like that-!"

"If _I_ didn't grab you!? You shouldn't have been trying to go back in time, _again!_ What is this, the fourth time?"

"...Technically the fifth," she muttered, referring to their current situation. His harsh stare let her know the comment wasn't appreciated. Mason turned his back on her, paced a few steps away while rubbing his forehead and saying something under his breath, before turning around and returning.

"That guy you took this thing from- did he say anything?

"Uh… Yeah. His name's Blender, or something, and he's part of some… Time Anomaly Removal Crew? But he kept talking about how he didn't see any anomalies there, so he just ended up running around like an idiot, and that's why he bumped into me."

Mason's jaw dropped. "He's part of an organization that specializes in fixing time anomalies, so you go and _cause time anomalies!?_"

Wendy scratched the back of her head sheepishly, averting her gaze. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

The brunet pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling noisily. "Goddammit." He paced away a few steps, and placed both hands the sides of his heads, jamming his fingers into his temples as hard as he could, eyes screwed shut. "God-fucking-_dammit_."

"Mason…?" She walked closer to him, reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder. She was not expecting to suddenly whip around, slapping her arm away. His eyes were pure scarlet, his face frozen in a furious snarl. She blinked, and he was suddenly in her face, towering over her.

"Don't act all innocent," he growled. "You live in Gravity Falls, you should know not to mess with things you don't understand! Instead, we're at least a hundred years in the past, because you wanted to go on a stupid _date._" Mason kept pushing forward, and Wendy kept backing up until she bumped into a tree. He slammed his hand into the trunk, right next to her head, showering her hair with an explosion of wood chips. Their noses were practically touching, which was all Wendy could focus on, Mason's words blurring into white noise.

Eventually, Mason noticed the glazed look in her emerald eyes, because he finally backed down with a sigh. He lifted his net hat a bit to card a hand through his hair, the red bleeding out of his sclera.

"Um…" Wendy began, unsure what to say. Mason cut her off.

"Stop. Just, stop. Tell me how to operate this stupid thing," he pulled out the tape measure, "And let's go back to our time." Wendy squared her shoulders, an actions that put him on edge.

"No."

"Whaddaya mean, _no?"_

"I mean, I'm not telling you how until I get what I want."

Mason furrowed his brows, anger rising. "And _what_, exactly, do you want?" he asked, voice dangerously low. Wendy shivered, but forged on.

"You."

Mason blinked, then shook his head. He fixed Wendy with a pointed stare, but his raised eyebrows betrayed his shock. "You know slavery went outta fashion at least two hundred years ago, right?"

Wendy startled. "What!? No! I wanna go out with you, dude. Like, boyfriend-girlfriend?"

Mason blinked again, then sucked in a breath through his teeth, hissing like a popped tire. "Oooh, that's a bit of a problem."

"What!? Why!?"

"...I dunno if I should say."

"Tell me!"

"You might get angry though."

"I'm gonna get angry if you _don't!"_

"Oh… Well, I'll tell you when we're back in our time."

"No! Tell me _now!"_

"_Now_ for us is in a century, so if you wanna wait a hundred years for _now _to come around, then be my guest."

"Ugh, fine! Press the button on the top to undo the last travel." Mason grabbed Wendy's wrist, pressed the button on the top of the tape measure, and the two were enveloped in a blue glow, vanishing moments before a herd of bison trampled across their footprints, erasing any sign of their presence.

* * *

Mason and Wendy stumbled into each other, feet unsteady as they finally landed back in their time, only a few paces away from where they left. Mason pocketed the time machine- since nobody had hopped out of the time stream to take it back, he assumed it was safe to keep, so long as he was careful. No interacting with his past self (he had the copying machine if he needed to be in multiple places at the same time), and no leaving stuff in the past/future. That probably covered all his bases. He was shaken out of his thoughts, literally, by Wendy, who had grabbed him by the shoulders to prevent him from running away, which he totally _wasn't_ planning on doing (it would have been a brisk walk, not a full-on sprint).

"Alright, we're back in _now_, so I want answers!" she growled, a manic spark in her eyes. Mason smiled nervously, then swallowed.

"Okay. So, it's a problem, because… Pacifica said she loves me, kissed me, then I passed out. We haven't spoken since, and it's been two days," he rattled off, taking a deep breath at the end to refill his deflated lungs. While Wendy was twitching and frothing at the mouth, he gently pried her fingers off him, then made a tactical retreat (he was very careful not to run, in case it activated Wendy's predatory lumberjack instincts and urged her to give chase). He retreated all the way to the attic of the Mystery Shack, and flopped down in his bed. Mabel was on her side of the room, playing with a small pig.

"Dipper, this is Waddles. Oink!" She held the pig up reverently, grabbing his little hoof to make him wave at Mason. Mason waved back half-heartedly, too distracted by the day's events. Mabel noticed his absentmindedness, and commented on it. "What's up, Dip-Dop?"

"...I think I've made a terrible mistake."


	11. Chapter 11

This probably isn't what y'all had in mind for the next update for this story, but... Made a Pat re on account. Kinda cool, I guess. Just gonna be posting random stories and shit, for the most part. Check it out, Creator name is CrazyClouds, and my profile pic is the same as here on FF.


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